


The Phantom of the Archipelago

by Aleteia



Series: Phantomverse [3]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: And Gods there are a lot of them, Darker-than-Canonverse Hiccup, Emotional Trauma, Eret POV, F/M, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Hiccup facing actual consequences for the things he did in the previous story, M/M, Phantom!Hiccup, Phantomcup, Phantomverse, Scars of the Past, Sequel to The Phantom of the Arena, Small parts of Stoick and Astrid POV, Trauma, You thought Berk hated the Phantom? Wait until you meet Viggo, hiccup pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:50:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 70,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23139358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleteia/pseuds/Aleteia
Summary: After five years of relentlessly putting up a siege against the Red Death, Hiccup, the former terrorist known as the Phantom of the Arena, has finally defeated the Archipelago's greatest enemy, putting a definitive end to the dragon raids. Hoping the worst is finally behind him, he returns to Berk, only to find he left more behind than just the girl he loved. And that life still isn’t done with him.Outside of the Archipelago, Eret, son of Eret, is left with nothing after a mysterious dragon rider destroys his fort and releases the captured dragons his employer sorely needed. Fearing he’ll be killed if he doesn’t, he flees to the Archipelago with what little remains, hoping to find employment in the dragon-infested area. But the threat seems to have followed him, as news spreads of how Berk's infamous Phantom has returned to reclaim what's his. And that people like Eret will never be safe, unless they act against him.------Sequel to 'The Phantom of the Arena'. Rated Mature for Violence and Sexual Content.
Relationships: Eret/Tuffnut Thorston, Eret/Viggo Grimborn, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & Stoick the Vast, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Alexander (OC) (Flashbacks Only), Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Astrid Hofferson, Snotlout Jorgenson/Ruffnut Thorston, Stoick the Vast/Valka
Series: Phantomverse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580575
Comments: 358
Kudos: 245





	1. Reaching for Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome everyone to this story, which is the sequel to The Phantom of the Arena! While the plot of the first story was very much inspired on that of the musical, The Phantom of the Opera, this story will not be following the plot of the sequel to that musical, Love Never Dies. Instead, this is a story I've come up with myself, based on the many consequences of the events of the first story.
> 
> I thoroughly hope you enjoy this one as well! It will be updated on Saturday around 6 PM Central European (Summer) Time, once every two weeks.
> 
> I'd highly recommend reading the first story before this one! It provides a lot of context for the events. If you do not want to do so, proceed at your own risk.
> 
> I also want to try a new feature of AO3, which is to share a song with you guys I think works really well with the chapter at the start of it, if I can think of one! So I hope you'll enjoy those too! And a big thank you to @celtictreemuffin for the moodboard at the start of this first chapter!

[Image Description: Moodboard of various pictures associated with this story, along with the title "The Phantom of the Archipelago". Starting in the upper left corner and going clockwise, there's an image of a figure of a Night Fury, of a blonde woman representing Astrid, of Eret's ship with a pillar of ice, of Hiccup standing alone on a beach, and finally there's Hiccup and Toothless with only half of their faces shown, the right side of Hiccup's face hidden.] 

**Song for this Chapter (for the first paragraph)**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Reaching for Dawn**

Despite having spent a large part of his life around dragons, Hiccup had to admit he had comparatively little experience with dead ones. His father had always insisted on keeping him out of the crossfire during the dragon raids for his own good - and in hindsight, he could agree with that judgement - so he had hardly ever been there to witness an actual kill. And he'd seen absolutely no reason to go near their corpses, not even scientific ones. The sight of them did weird things to his stomach - something he'd written off as nausea at the time, as yet another sign of how he wasn't the Viking he was expected to be. But by now he'd figured out it had simply been _guilt_.

The signs had always been there. He'd never quite understood why it had taken him so long to see how he really felt about dragons. But he also didn't consider himself a stranger to denial and its indisputable power. How easy it was to believe something if you simply repeated it to yourself often enough.

It was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

"It's actually pretty anticlimactic," he concluded, taking another careful step forward. The hard texture beneath his feet didn't quite give in under the pressure of his weight, but he wouldn't exactly call it stable either.

Then again, he highly doubted the Red Death's neck was meant for a human to walk on.

He took in every detail of her blue-green skin as he stepped forward, all the small scars and dents etched into what he had estimated to have been a dragon of several hundred years. He climbed over the crown-like frill on the back of her head, ironically indicating her former status as queen and tormentor, and laid eyes on the gaping hole at the top of her skull.

"A tyrant, slain by a terrorist," he scoffed. "How ironic."

Getting the final kill on her hadn't been all too difficult. She'd burst out of her mountain, famished, attempting to get away on the last sliver of her energy. She'd tried to take to the air, but her wings hadn't cooperated, allowing Toothless to get in close enough for Hiccup to land on her neck and stab her with his paralysing dagger, Stinger.

He hadn't needed much more than that single moment of hesitation in which the Dragon Queen's body had ground to a halt, weakened enough for the Speedstinger Venom to actually take effect. He had plunged Inferno right through her skull, the blade hissing as it came into contact with the dragon's insides.

He'd never been a dragon killer. But after preparing himself for what was necessary from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her, he hadn't found an ounce of hesitation in himself.

One life to save countless others.

He'd jumped off her back as soon as he could, spreading his wings until he and Toothless had reconnected, expecting to have to re-engage as soon as possible. But it'd been a waste of energy on his end. Right beneath him, the villain he'd been fighting since he was sixteen fell down onto the beach. And she didn't move again, her four remaining eyes blankly staring ahead.

"I guess it's really done now," he murmured. "What's your verdict, bud?"

Toothless' ears perked up, his eyes widening as he released one of the Red Death's appendages from his jaws, looking guilty to be caught in the act of chewing on it. He bounded forward, nudging Hiccup aside, making his rider stumble on his feet. Then he dug his nose into the hole in the Red Death's skull, only to recoil immediately, shaking violently in disgust.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," Hiccup chuckled. "And I'll take your suggestion not to smell that."

Toothless gave him a low grumble, rolling his eyes in a way Hiccup knew the Night Fury couldn't have learnt from other dragons. But he could hardly blame his friend for copying his own most persistent habits.

He took a small bow. "Your sacrifice is greatly appreciated."

This time, Toothless simply turned his back on him instead of even remotely acknowledging his bad sense of humour.

"Sure, be like that!" he teased. "Just wait until the next time _you_ make a bad joke!" He lowered his voice, puffing out his chest. " _So a Night Fury and a Deadly Nadder walk into a tavern, and then the Gronckle at the bar is like 'Well, sir, aren't you -'_ Ow!"

He chuckled to himself as he rubbed the sore spot on his shoulder. He couldn't say it was the first time Toothless had swatted him with the good side of his tail.

"I know I'm being silly, but it's just…" He moved up the visor of his helmet, rubbing his face with one of his gloves. "It's done. She's dead, she's actually _dead_."

He prodded the skin beneath his boot, but there was no response yet again. "We fought for so long, with no idea of whether we'd make it through alive. Or at all. It just feels… _weird._ Like I don't quite understand what it means. Of course, there are all the implications, not just for me, but for the dragons, the Archipelago, for… for _Berk_."

"Gods, they don't even really know what we've been up against, now do they?" He brushed his overgrown hair away from his forehead and scratched his beard. "They can't possibly be able to imagine that we took down all of _this._ " He gestured widely at the dragon below him. "Raids simply disappeared from one day to the other, nice and easy. Letting old Hiccup and Toothless kill the big bad dragon while they sat back and relaxed. Never mind how long it might take."

If only things had actually been that simple.

He whipped out Inferno, wincing as it unfolded with several creaks and squeals. Contrary to what its flames suggested, he didn't like it to be louder than necessary. He had to oil the mechanism as soon as he could. The blade itself had to be sharpened as well, but it had served him well enough until now. Surely, it wouldn't break down on him today.

"Although that would most certainly be just my kind of luck."

Smirking to himself as he doubled down on his crazy but glorious idea, he climbed back over the dragon's crown and confidently planted his sword into the thinnest part of the Red Death's neck.

Slowly but surely, he moved his sword back and forth, sawing his way through the side and jumping back when a red, gooey fluid spurted right out of the wound.

"Not sure if that's awesome or disgusting, but I'm sure we'll find out," he commented.

All Toothless gave him was another eye-roll.

He put his hands on his sides, mimicking a stern parent. "You know, you could help out, _mister_."

He spoke enough Night Fury to derive that the warble Toothless let out in response was a definitive _no_.

"Sure, let me do all the heavy lifting," he quipped as he put his hands back on Inferno's hilt. "That's how we do things, isn't it?"

He figured that if Toothless had any eyebrows to lift, that would be exactly what he'd be doing right now.

"Okay fine, you carry me on your back all the time but let's be fair, I'm not _that_ heavy."

Toothless vaguely gestured, moving his right wing up and down.

"I can't exactly help it that I got taller, now can I? And I'd like to kindly remind you that you've been through your own share of new tails, so the inconvenience is mutual. Can't say I personally mind that I've lost some of my resemblance to a talking fishbone, though."

Toothless warbled something agreeing, leaving Hiccup to ramble on on his own as he continued to carve through the dragon's neck.

"I know I'm repeating myself, but it's just so strange. We had this routine, nice and easy, every single day. Wake up, get the other dragons, -" He turned his gaze towards the sky, finding most of his Dragon Army still around, either socialising with or scaring away the dragons that had escaped from the Queen's Nest. "Haunt this bitch for a while to make sure she couldn't eat, hope she'd show herself so we could get a hit in, get the dragons out so she couldn't start influencing them again, go to sleep, repeat. Watching the seasons change, being both relieved and irritated to leave for the Rookery when winter came, because apparently dragons will mate and have eggs under _any_ circumstance - no 'not feeling like it' there - and -"

" _\- Oh my Thor that smell!_ " he winced as he dug deeper into the Red Death's flesh, completely soiling himself with whatever he'd hit. "Okay, I'm definitely settling for disgusting."

He wiped himself off to the extent that he could. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that while it was boring, and I definitely didn't want to be here, it was also sort of… easy. Simple. No complications from anywhere, or anyone. Just me and you. Even my nightmares, I wouldn't say they're gone, but you've noticed it too, they're…" He wavered for a bit, measuring his words even though he knew there was no one around to judge them. "… better, I suppose."

He stayed silent for a while, steadily working on until his arms eventually started to shake with what he hoped was exhaustion. "That's all over now. And I don't know what's next, I know what I _want_ , or I think I do, but it's all so uncertain and I just…" He sighed, steadying his breath. "It's scary, bud."

Toothless gave him a sympathetic warble, peeking up at him, but Hiccup waved him off. "I always knew there was only so long I could hide behind stupid jokes, ignore everything that happened and simply focus on her." He poked the dragon's skin. "But I've wanted it to be over since the day I came here. I should be prepared to deal with what comes afterwards. I made Astrid a promise, after all."

_I will kill the Red Death. And when I do, the part of me she helped create will die along with her._

The Red Death was dead, the one to give him the burn scars that covered the entire right side of his body, to lead him down his path of loneliness and resentment. And it was his duty to leave the corpse of the Phantom of the Arena, the anti-Viking terrorist, his alter-ego, the darker, power-hungry parts of himself, right next to hers.

He owed that. To Astrid.

The sun had started to set by the time he finished, the Red Death's head not-so-neatly separated from her body. He checked in on his dragons, making sure he told all fifty of them how thankful he was for their help. That they were free to leave if they wanted to. But they stuck around nevertheless, ever loyal.

He could feel Stormfly's expectant gaze on him however.

He and Toothless retreated to the far side of the island, landing on the shore of a small creek. He tore off his armour and dumped the pieces into the water before jumping in himself. It was cold despite the summer weather, but he sighed contently regardless, enjoying how the blood, grease and grime was cleansed off his skin, the tension of his scars easing as they soaked. Next to him, Toothless was lazing around, heating up the water and releasing little breaths of steam.

After scrubbing all the dirt off his clothes and putting them back on the shore, he hoisted himself up onto the rocks, waiting for the water to still. He stared at it, the sky above him clear enough to allow him to make out the details of his reflection.

He reckoned he hadn't changed that much. His chest and shoulders had broadened to the extent that he'd needed to make some adjustments to his flight suit. He had more scars, primarily on his arms, although he doubted they were very noticeable given the lush decoration of pink and white lines he already had. His hair had gotten too long and hung over his shoulders, having escaped from the braid he'd put in earlier that day. On the left side of his face, he was sporting something that he supposed could be called a beard, for lack of a better word.

All in all, he didn't think he looked like he'd been stuck on the Red Death's island for almost _five years_.

He'd left Berk after essentially exiling himself. Because he had threatened to kill the woman he loved. Because he had used her for his own gain. Because he had been obsessed with gaining power over and inciting fear in the people who had wronged him. Because he had lost himself when Astrid had pointed out that he was wrong, believing she had turned against him instead of seeing that she'd actually been trying to save him.

Because he had almost killed his father, while the man still claimed to love him in spite of how he'd terrorised the island the Chief of Berk had vowed to protect. And he'd spent the past five years repeating that claim to himself, training himself to accept it as the truth. To banish the resentment he had carried with him during the four years he'd been away from Berk, and the subsequent two years he'd haunted the island, from his mind.

He had exiled himself for two reasons. To kill the Red Death, ending the war between dragons and Vikings once and for all. And to better himself. To earn the right to go back to Astrid. And to maybe, hopefully, _Gods please let it be that way_ , get the chance to love her again.

If she was still alive, she'd turn twenty-six towards the end of the summer. Not that there was an if. She hadn't died, he was sure of that. He had to be. Because he didn't know what to do if she'd died while he hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye to her. To see her, just one more time. To beg her to let him make it up to her.

He could only hope that she'd give him that chance. That there was a part of him that she found redeemable enough, that she wouldn't instantly turn away. He'd tried to prepare himself for the possibility that she didn't want to see him at all, that she deeply hated him for everything he'd done to her and her people. That she'd found happiness with someone else, someone more stable, more just, a man who was better for her and who actually kept the promises he made to her instead of single-handedly breaking them himself.

_Some day, I'm going to make you my wife. So I can be your husband. And I promise you that I will take care of you as long as I'm alive. I will fight for you, I will protect you. If I have to, I will die for you. And until then, I will never leave your side._

That was what he'd told her. And in the span of the two weeks that had followed, he'd left her to rot on Berk, had threatened to strangle her in his sheer anger. And when he'd finally regained some of his sanity, he'd abandoned her.

He couldn't bear the idea that she didn't want to see him again. It tore him apart, his chest ripping open from the inside out, the thought sending him spiralling back down into the darker ones that had caused him to lose himself in the first place. But he knew, deep down, that if Astrid thoroughly loathed him, he completely deserved it.

He wiped his eyes, preventing his tears from falling down and distorting the image of the man he hoped had gotten better, who had dealt with the demons that had so thoroughly plagued him. He gathered his hair with one hand, holding a dagger to it with his other, trying to remember how Astrid used to cut it when they were living together on Phantom Island. He wanted to look as much like the man she'd once loved as he could.

He cut it off in one go, figuring a hack job still looked better than the overgrown mess he now held in his palm. He carefully shaved himself afterwards, because his face was already disfigured enough without him making any additional contributions himself.

It left him with nothing else to do but to dress himself again. To prepare for take-off. To head for Berk. With no idea what was waiting for him there, beyond the horizon he'd fought to earn the right to fly to.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been indecisive. Not after he'd figured out that hesitation was what got people killed. The inability to act, to save their own skin. To survive. Nevertheless, he liked to be prepared. And he didn't have a single clue of what to expect.

But he had waited for long enough. So he simply took a deep breath and gathered what little belongings he had. His weapons, the drawings he had of Astrid, and the new ones he'd made in his time away.

At sunset, he departed in the direction of Berk.

Hoping dawn would greet him there.

* * *

Eret awoke to a strange kind of trembling, interrupting one of the first good nights of sleep he'd had in several weeks. He'd been extremely busy preparing the next shipment. From keeping Drago's messengers off his back, because he'd also been late last time, to capturing the actual dragons. But now they were finally ready, with a few days to spare before they had to sail out to Drago's camp.

It had left the fort mostly empty, with many of his crew members already having returned to the mainland with their families, enjoying a brief respite before the cycle would start all over again. Only those who would assist in the dragon transport were still around, along with Ug, who would babysit Rana and Nilas, to the latter one's dismay. But despite Nilas' wishes, Eret wasn't taking him or his younger sister anywhere near Drago Bludvist.

Finally getting a full night of shut-eye didn't seem to be on the table for him tonight, however, considering he was roused by another tremor, and a distant dragon cry. As if something was riling the beast up. And perhaps he had to check it out, even though it wasn't his turn to be on watch tonight.

He threw his furs off himself and sat up with a groan, twisting his shoulder and barely suppressing a moan when it popped, seemingly slotting back into its rightful place from whatever strange position he'd been sleeping in. In the dark, he looked for his boots, finding them at the end of his cot.

He was halfway through pulling on his left boot when he heard another roar, unmistakably that of a Snafflefang. And he rushed on his next one when his ears caught the human scream that followed.

Something wasn't right.

He hastily grabbed his fur vest, walking up to the window.

"Uncle Eret…?" a sleepy voice asked from the next bunk.

He opened the shutters to look outside. But he couldn't see anything, aside from the top of the Western Watchtower. The East Tower, where they slept, was at least seven stories too high up.

"Uncle Eret?" Nilas repeated, his bed creaking as he turned. "What's going on?"

"I don't know, kid," he answered honestly, only for the air to be pierced by another, clearly distressed shout.

He could hear Nilas' boots land on the wooden floor, having jumped out of bed, and felt his nephew nudge his arm only seconds later, squirming his way through to look out of the window. Eret quickly grabbed the tip of Nilas' hood when he felt Nilas almost topple out of it, leaning too far forward in an attempt to get a better view.

"I can't see anything…" Nilas mumbled as if he wasn't putting himself in mortal danger. "It's too dark, too far down, and -"

Right then, the sky was lit by a bright, orange blaze, just long enough for Eret to catch Nilas as he stumbled backwards, his long, untamed brown hair framing his shocked face.

"The dragons…"

"Get your coat," Eret ordered, his heart speeding up. "And stay with me."

Nilas nodded, rushing past Eret to climb back up to the top bunk. Eret himself crouched, leaned into the lower bunk and carefully shook the little girl who was still, somehow, fast asleep.

"Rana," he urged her. "Rana, wake up."

All he got in response was a lethargic, unintelligible reply. Deciding they didn't have the time for this, Eret ignored her sleep-drunken protests, bundled her up in her blanket and simply hoisted her up in his arms.

He rushed out of the room, constantly listening behind him for Nilas' footsteps as they made their way down the wooden stairs. Neither of them needed light to navigate the fort they called their home, but in all the years he'd lived here, the place had never felt so off. And he couldn't lose Nilas in the chaos. Not with bright flashes punctuating their every step, the dragon roars and human shouts barging in from outside and echoing through the empty corridors.

Every single warning bell in his head was currently ringing. Especially since none of his crew members had come to tell him what was wrong. And they weren't supposed to be this occupied with simply calming down a rowdy dragon.

They needed him.

He let out a sigh of relief when they reached the dining hall, about halfway up in the tower, the bridge to the Western Watchtower not far away.

"Uncle?" Rana muttered against his shoulder, finally starting to wake up. "Where are we going?"

"Downstairs," he tried to shush her, trotting over to the window on the side of the courtyard.

"I don't wanna."

"I know, honey, but we have to, you can go back to sleep soon."

"You can give her to me if you want to," Nilas suggested, still following right behind.

"It's fine, I just need to figure out what's going on," he murmured, ignoring the cold air that rushed in when he pushed the shutters open, finally allowing him to look down at the fort's courtyard.

During any other night, he would have struggled to get a proper view in the darkness. But tonight, he had no trouble at all, the complete and utter chaos beneath him completely exposed. Thanks to the northern palisade wall, which had caught on fire.

"Holy fuck…" Nilas breathed next to him, and Eret couldn't find it in himself to correct his nephew's language. Because he couldn't think of another way to more accurately describe the scene down below.

He could see the silhouettes of his men, struggling to control at least five dragons that had somehow escaped from their cages. Their swords, whips and axes did little to contain the beasts, given that they were as good as outnumbered.

"We need to help them," he said more to himself than to Nilas. "Before -"

He couldn't even finish expressing his fear before it came true right in front of his eyes. One of his men was hit by someone from behind, a staff-wielder, someone Eret realised _wasn't one of them_. It caused him to stumble forward, his scream piercing the night sky as he was torched by the flame of the Monstrous Nightmare he'd trapped himself only two weeks before.

It was the kind of sound Eret had only had to endure listening to once before, one that wrecked every bone in his body. The only thing he found himself able to do was press Rana even closer to his chest and cover her ears as well as he could.

But he was too late.

"What was that?" his niece asked.

"No-Name…" Nilas stammered, the flames throwing shadows over his features. "That was No-Name…"

Neither confirming nor denying Nilas' deduction, because they both knew he was right, Eret followed the intruder with his eyes, watching as his men surrounded him. He swung his staff above his head, cutting through the night sky with a strange sound, caught between a hum and a rattle.

It sent a shiver down Eret's spine, everything about it seeming off and… draconic.

He snuck a glance at the Western Tower where most of their ballistics were located, which would give them a fighting chance against the dragons. But all he found was the fire rapidly spreading along the northern wall, spelling the tower's doom.

Discarding that plan, he headed for the stairs, ignoring Rana's increasing cries and dragging Nilas with him because he didn't know how to deal with all of this at once. He hadn't asked for this, he just wanted to save his men, and he had no idea how to do that while also consoling a five-year old girl. Telling her it was going to be okay even though he'd never been this scared before himself.

Except for that one time.

His attempts at shushing his niece were interrupted by Ug rushing past him, torch in hand, up the stairs and into the dining hall, slipping to a halt when he saw Eret.

"Eret!" Ug exclaimed. "The dragons, they've -"

"Escaped, I know, I saw, what's going on?"

Ug just shook his head at him, completely clueless. "I don't know. I just found out and I -" He looked behind him, at the entrance to the bridge. "I need to get to the watchtower."

"No!" he cried. "The fire is spreading, it'll burn -"

"But Eret -"

"I need you to watch Nilas and Rana so I can go help the others, please," he urged.

"I can help!" Nilas interjected, but Eret shook his head at him.

"Eret…" Ug tried, his face begging, his feet already leading him further.

"Ug," Eret insisted. "You'll die if you -"

"I'll die if I don't!" Ug yelled, sparks flying as he gestured with his torch. "The dragons are loose, this is our only chance to get them back, and if we don't -"

Ug didn't finish his sentence, but simply glanced at Nilas.

Nothing else needed to be said after all.

Eret put Rana down on the floor as quickly yet softly as he could when Ug sprinted off towards the bridge, and ran after him. "Ug!"

Ug didn't stop. Not when he reached the long stretch that led to the other side. Nor when Nilas called out to him as well.

"Uncle Ug!"

"Ug, stop!" Eret shouted when he reached the start of the bridge himself, now able to hear the fire raging close by. Too close. And Ug had already gotten too far. "That's an order!"

It was enough to make Ug freeze and look over his shoulder one more time. It was enough for the bridge to momentarily go silent, safe for the constant hum of crackling fire.

Until they were all shaken by a tremble so heavy it made Eret collapse against the wall next to him, the ground quaking with a low, rumbling _roar_. Followed by the terrifying groans of what Eret instantly identified as timber, protesting under enormous pressure until it finally snapped.

And so did the bridge, right in front of him.

He scooted back on instinct, somehow finding Nilas' tunic and dragging him towards him as the spot they'd just been standing in shattered, splinters grazing the skin of his arm as he covered his eyes.

When he opened them again, Ug was gone. All that remained were a few planks of timber, aimlessly reaching out across a gap capable of killing any men if they fell down into it. Providing Eret with a perfect view of where the watchtower had been, now deformed into something spiky, broken, the Northern Wall's flames reflected in it, but somehow not reaching it.

It was only when the cold night wind hit his face that he realised that it looked an awful lot like _ice_.

He glanced at Nilas, whose mouth was hanging open, his eyes blown wide as he seemed to struggle to breathe.

Eret had no idea what had just happened, apart from that Ug couldn't have survived it. And that he had to make sure the rest of them did.

He climbed to his feet, dragging Nilas up with him. "We have to get out."

Nilas didn't respond, and barely cooperated as Eret ran over to where Rana was still on the floor, miraculously having stayed put.

"Where did you go?" was all she asked when he scooped her up, thankfully oblivious.

He didn't know what to say. "We're going down, okay? It's going to be fine."

"Okay."

"Yes, okay," he mumbled to himself, checking if Nilas was still following him when they once again reached the stairs. "We're okay. It's gonna be okay…"

He kept repeating that to himself as he ran down, holding Rana to his chest and wondering how much she understood, how much she knew, how convincing he really sounded, and how he could possibly live with himself, provided they did make it to tomorrow. If only he had stopped Ug earlier, then -

He was given no time to dwell on it as they reached the bottom of the fort, whatever had destroyed the West Tower not having caught up with them yet. He forced his way out of the doors, into the courtyard, frantically looking around for anyone to save. Or to help them instead.

But his eyes merely teared up, reacting to the scorching heat as they found nothing but thick, orange-tinted smoke, penetrated by the rare but overly familiar smell of burning human flesh.

Disoriented, he took another step forward, ignoring the glistening shards of ice as he called out into the void.

"Is anyone alive out there!?" he shouted, his voice echoing, receiving no more reply than Nilas' laboured coughing.

Where were his men? Had they died, had the dragons gotten them all? Had they perhaps reached the harbour? Were they waiting for him there? They wouldn't leave without him, after all, not after he'd taken care of them all these years. They wouldn't leave the kids, they cared about them too, it wasn't just him. He couldn't possibly be alone.

But he'd seen the desperation in Ug's expression. He knew that feeling, seeping into his veins, making him breathe harder, faster, defying all reason.

He didn't want to die tonight.

He had to get to the boats too.

He closed his eyes against the specks of ash filling the air and pushed on to where he knew the docks had to be. He told Nilas to hold on to the back of his tunic and wrapped both of his arms around Rana, hugging her as closely as he could as she coughed into his shoulder.

He had to make it out. If not for himself, then at least for them.

He'd made a promise, after all.

He tried to ignore the thumps of falling wooden beams as they hit the stone foundation of the island, undoubtedly weakened by the ungodly combination of fire and ice. He blocked out the dragon cries, which seemed to have increased to a multitude far above the number of dragons they had captured in the first place.

It didn't make sense. None of this did.

He hardly believed his eyes when he briefly opened them, and saw a tall figure in the smog, his mind briefly tricking him into thinking it was a woman. But it couldn't possibly be her. Though it would fit. Aila, his older sister, mocking him from beyond the grave in his own final moments.

Nevertheless, he called out to the silhouette when the four wings and crowned head of a Stormcutter appeared right behind him.

"Watch out!"

But the Shadow only continued its trek.

Towards Eret.

And he finally recognised the horned head and the long staff of the person who'd caused No-Name's death.

"No." He shook his head, passing Rana on to a Nilas who still hadn't said a word since Ug's fall. He pushed Nilas behind him, and reached for his swords. "I'm not going down without a fight."

The Shadow briefly halted, glancing back at the Stormcutter without fear. Because it wasn't here to hurt him. It followed him.

Which meant Drago wasn't alone after all.

The East Tower, still next to them, heaved, its foundations sighing under the same pressure that had felled the West Tower, its cracking and snapping piercing the air.

From the corner of his eye, Eret saw it move.

He let one of his swords clatter to the floor, grabbed Nilas' elbow, and ran.

"Don't look back," he told his nephew as they sprinted, urging him to go faster even though he knew he couldn't, but they _had_ to, they had no choice but to as the tower audibly collapsed behind them, his voice hardly reaching above the frightening amount of noise.

There was no way they could reach the docks. There was only one place they could get to, and he hoped, prayed, that he was right about the Shadow's reason for coming here to begin with. So he jumped down in what now had to be an abandoned, stone dragon cell.

He couldn't see whether he was right. He could only help Nilas and Rana down towards their salvation, or demise, leading them further into the cells until they'd found the last remaining sliver of fresh air, completely surrounded by darkness as they collapsed against the wall of what Eret knew used to be a Scuttleclaw cell. Which before tonight, hadn't been empty.

He dragged Rana into his lap and wiped off her face, which was sticky with soot and ash, as she coughed and cried.

"We're safe now," he told her, because maybe that would make him believe it too. "The cells are made of stone, they'll hold, and the dragons are gone, so whoever that was, he'll leave. He just wanted the dragons."

Nilas crept up against him, shaking, seeking closeness in a way he hadn't since he'd turned ten three summers ago, looking for a reassurance Eret didn't know how to give. They were too far away from the ships. They had nowhere else to go. And as much as he wanted to stay strong and to put on a brave face, he also couldn't help but tremble every time the cell quaked or shook, indicating yet another piece of his beloved fort had fallen.

They had to make it through the night. Pray that the Shadow would be gone in the morning. And that he didn't have to break the promise he'd made to his sister, to Aila, to protect her children after her death.

So he simply hummed the song she'd sang to them until the day she'd died, drowning out Rana's cries and Nilas' shivers.

" _The night is long,_

_And the path is dark._

_Look to the sky,_

_For one day soon,_

_The dawn will come._ "

And desperately hoped its message would come true.


	2. Daybreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm back with the second chapter! I just wanted to say thank you for all the lovely reactions so far, because they make me smile so much. I was a tad worried about whether people would still be interested in this story and its universe, but seeing so many people come back and hear that they're still in love with the original story and that they like the way this is starting… It just means the world to me. And it really motivates me to continue writing and work on it even more.
> 
> I hope that you are all doing well even though the world is going through some trying times, and that me publishing a new chapter can make you feel even just a little bit better.

**Chapter 2: Daybreak**

He didn't want to admit it, but at his age, getting up and out of bed in the morning was starting to become a little more difficult than it used to be. He could notice his joints were starting to protest against a life of fighting both Vikings and dragons, his bones slowly crumbling under the weight of his responsibilities. Even though the last five years had been a lot easier on him than all of them before. Physically, that was.

But all in all, Stoick the Vast was glad he'd lived to the ripe age of 56. Because it'd allowed him to experience things he'd never fathomed he would. He'd already grown older than both his father and grandfather, and had thanked the Gods for that many times before. But he couldn't quite say he was done with life yet. There was one thing he still needed to do. One person he needed to see.

And he wasn't leaving for Valhalla before that.

Still, he wouldn't mind a day in which he could simply sleep in, and could ignore the insistent knocking on his door. But that had never been his way.

So he lifted himself out of bed and grabbed his cloak, dutifully heading for the door. He navigated around the toys causing chaos in his house on instinct, the mess a result of another long night that in hindsight felt too short.

"Stoick!" a voice he now recognised as Gobber's urgently repeated.

"Coming!" he shouted, barely suppressing a yawn.

He opened his front door to find his friend standing on the other side, panting, his eyes blown wide, his hand prosthetic oddly absent. Thoroughly shaken. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Gobber like that, and it instantly woke him up, alert because something had to have gone wrong.

But before he could ask what had happened, Gobber pointed his stump towards the ocean. Towards the cliffs. At something large, at a shape Stoick couldn't quite identify, making him squint his eyes against the morning sun.

_A gigantic dragon head, balancing on the edge of his island._

It was hideous. Enormous, bigger than anything he'd ever seen, allowing him to make out enough details even from this distance. He doubted it'd fit through the doors of the Great Hall. He reckoned it didn't. But he could clearly see its large, yellow teeth, contrasting with the blue-green shade of its skin. He also spotted two cavities, holes where the dragon's eyes should have been. He'd seen those eyes before. They had been delivered to Berk, one after the other, spread out over the course of three years. Only to be followed by two years of complete, agonising silence.

And now there was this. And while it was absolutely gruesome, gory, and utterly disgusting to look at, his eyes watered as if it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. Because it was. There was only one person who could have brought it here. Only one person who could have killed the dragon who he now knew had been responsible for the raids that had tormented his people for over three hundred years.

_Hiccup._

Hiccup had promised he'd kill the dragon he and Astrid called the Red Death. And he'd done it. And although there was no sign of Hiccup himself, he had provided Berk with very clear, obvious, undeniable proof of his heroism.

It meant the war was really over. It had felt that way for the past five years, but now it was real. They finally had peace.

_It meant Hiccup was alive._

Stoick started to laugh, ecstatic, his knees weak. Gobber looked at him strangely, but he didn't care. He simply hugged his friend, howling as tears escaped from the corners of his eyes.

Hiccup was alive. He'd succeeded. He'd let Berk know that. Which had to mean that even though he was currently nowhere to be found, he was coming back. And that Stoick would finally, after almost eleven years, get the chance to talk to his son again.

"I can't believe it," was all he managed.

Gobber simply nodded against his shoulder, hugging him back. "Me neither."

They laughed and cried together, sharing their joy, their elatedness as they walked over to the dragon's decapitated skull to get a better look at it. To be amazed by the acts of bravery of the boy they had practically raised together.

Hiccup's heroics wouldn't be celebrated; Berk wasn't quite ready for that. But the least they could do was ensure that just for today, not a single Berkian dared to bring up the actions Hiccup's Phantom had committed against them.

But with the extraordinary delight also came the knowledge that Hiccup could have hardly chosen a worse day to return.

Then again, when it came to his son, Stoick should have never expected anything else.

* * *

There was something oddly eerie about what would otherwise be a perfectly peaceful sight. The sea, calmly moving through its motions, its waves crashing onto the rocks or gently crawling onto the stony beach. Not a hint in its sound, in its usual rustling, that it had any idea of what exactly had taken place here last night. And that Eret had lost everything he'd ever had.

Except for his life.

They'd made it out. Somehow. After an eternity in the darkness in which the Shadow hadn't come for them, the heat had slowly dissipated, the night's many terrifying noises finally dying out.

Dawn had come.

And when he'd finally gathered the last snippets of his courage and had made his way back up to the surface, all he'd found were the remnants of what had once been his fort. Passed down among his people for generations, to new Erets, Sons of Erets.

All that was left of his family's history now was a mangled abomination of wood, encased by a strange blue-green glistening substance, ominously looming over them. He'd briefly wondered if it was even ice to begin with, but pressing his hand against the cold surface had quickly confirmed his suspicions. He didn't know where it had come from, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Someone had freed the dragons he'd worked so hard to trap. And for all he knew, he'd be back.

Any safety he felt now, sitting on the beach with his back towards what could once be called a fort, water trickling down from it as it started to melt in the summer sun, was only temporary.

"We need a plan," he murmured to Teeny, who was sitting next to him. He let his eyes survey the beach, resting on each and every one of the shallow mounds under which they'd buried the rest of their family. Those whose bodies they'd been able to find, that was.

Ug hadn't been among them. Others had hardly received a proper send-off, because they could only guess who the body had belonged to, as they'd been wounded beyond recognition. Burned alive or charred after death. He could only hope it'd been the latter, and that they hadn't suffered too much.

His gaze landed on the waterfront, where Nilas was aimlessly skipping stones into the sea, the waves tickling his ankles every now and then. He was still covered in soot, most of his sleek, brown hair escaped from his hastily tied together ponytail, his clothes torn and charred. Eret had tried to convince him to take some time to clean himself up, but to no avail. His normally talkative nephew hadn't said anything since that morning. He simply stared blankly ahead, still processing the horrors he'd seen the night before. The only signs of life he gave were the violent coughs that occasionally wrecked his body.

Eret wasn't sure whether a thirteen-year-old boy, who'd grown up here, who'd never known another life than that of a dragon trapper, could actually deal with what he'd seen. But he also didn't have a clue how to help him.

Today, he felt like he didn't know anything at all.

Thankfully, Rana seemed to have missed most of it, still blindly trusting her uncle's word. He'd tried to fix her up as well as he could, explaining to her that they couldn't simply go back to bed, but he still spotted some burnt pieces in both of her black braids. He'd have to get rid of those at one point or another.

And figure out a way to tell her that she wouldn't see most of the men who'd helped raise her ever again. That the shape of the fort wasn't something that could be brushed off the way he had done that morning when she'd seen it. That instead, it meant they no longer had a home.

Rana seemed to be more concerned about her brother than anyone else, pulling on his sleeve and asking him to play. Nilas didn't give her any response. He ignored her, but she stayed persistent, pushing until he finally crumbled and sat down, hugging his sister with more strength than Eret had seen from him all day.

"We can't stay here," Eret continued, his heart slowly breaking into pieces.

"But what about Drago?" Teeny asked, his voice soft.

"We don't have any dragons to deliver. Those of us who are still alive are at least a day or two of sailing away. And with just you, me, and the kids, there's no way we'll capture enough dragons before next week."

"Can't we try?"

"I'd love to. I don't give up easily, you know that, but…" He shook his head, burying his hand in his hair, catching some pieces of dust. "I have to be realistic." He nodded towards Nilas and Rana. "For them."

"Maybe Drago will understand. It's not our fault we were attacked, maybe he'll appreciate it if we tell him who -"

"You were there, right?" he snapped, gesturing to his chest. "Last time we didn't have enough, after we'd been ambushed by a Scauldron on the way to Drago, when…"

_When Nilas' father was burnt alive by Drago in front of Eret's eyes, and he was given his brand as a permanent reminder of what happened to 'slackers'._

He could feel it sting, that forever damaged spot over his heart, when Teeny slowly nodded. They all remembered. How Eret's only sister Aila had cried when they'd arrived back at the fort without her husband, breaking down with the realisation that he would never meet his unborn child. And that their son would grow up without his father.

She had fallen ill shortly after Rana's birth. And no longer had the strength to recover.

"I can't even imagine what Drago will do if we turn up with nothing at all," Eret added, swallowing away the hurt. "And I don't have to. He'll kill us, at the very least. Who knows where Nilas and Rana will end up then. And even if we survive, how could we rebuild, how do we know that whoever attacked us won't come back to finish the job?"

He shivered, the images from the previous night crawling back into his head, the fire, the screams. The horned, tall Dragon Thief, the Shadow who had taken everything from them, focusing his gaze on him through the smoke. The panic he still felt now at the mere thought of having to live through that again. Having to bury another set of bodies, of not just his men, but his children too. The idea of Nilas and Rana, lying there, never again throwing a tantrum or shooting him a smile.

It was unbearable, just his imagination already clawing open his chest and tearing out his heart.

And there was only one way to prevent that nightmare from coming true.

"We have to flee," he concluded, trying to calm down his rapidly beating heart as he turned his gaze towards the sea.

Teeny swallowed, undoubtedly going through the same scenarios Eret had just seen play out in his head. But after a moment of silence, he proposed: "We could go back to the mainland. My brothers still live back in the village, and those who went home already are there as well. We have to tell them what happened."

"I wish I could, but…" Eret shook his head. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because that's where Drago's going. It's his goal. He wants to conquer the mainland kingdoms with his dragon army… So no matter where we go, he'll find us."

"I highly doubt he even knows our faces. He's employed so many trappers, after all," Teeny argued. "So we could hide in plain sight."

"Until someone finds my brand and rats me out," he countered. "Drago gave me a life sentence."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"To go the other way." He pointed to the north west. "To the Barbaric Archipelago."

"Really?" Teeny pulled up an eyebrow. "Our entire livelihood was just destroyed by dragons, and you want to go to the one place that's infested with them?"

"Yes."

"It's called the _Barbaric_ Archipelago for a reason."

"And that's why Drago has no interest in it," Eret pointed out. "He won't conquer it, he thinks it's too insignificant for him. It would've been a trial run for him, at best, and he doesn't feel like he needs it. He killed the most powerful Chiefs there twenty years ago, so none of the current ones pose a threat to him. And unlike most people, I know how to handle a dragon if I have to, so I reckon there's got to be a place where they'll let us stay."

"I don't know, Eret…"

"I don't have all the answers either," he admitted. "But what I have heard about the Archipelago is that it's a chaotic mess. Vikings, our people and many others, split into islands and tribes that never see eye to eye on anything. The only thing that unites them is their hate for dragons, which I can thoroughly agree with. But what I do know for sure, is that my brand puts me at risk wherever Drago goes. In the Archipelago, I might have a shot." He grabbed a handful of stones by his feet and started chucking them away, one by one. "And that's all I can really hope for right now."

Teeny looked at him, his expression troubled. "I need to see my brothers again. I can't leave them wondering. Nor any of the others."

"And I have to make sure Nilas and Rana have a future. One in which they won't have to be on the run for the rest of their lives."

They looked at each other for a long while, at the person they had worked with for the past fifteen years. Who they had trusted, and had always been able to rely on.

And they both knew what had to be done.

"There are two ships left," Eret recalled from their survey that morning. The others had been reduced to splinters, or ashes.

"You and the kids should take the larger one," Teeny nodded. "I'll take the small boat. It should take a few days at most for me to reach the mainland. I'll find the others and tell them not to come back here."

"And that I'm dead," Eret added.

Teeny's eyes widened. "Eret -"

"It's for the better," he insisted. "If anyone does try to track me down, you'll be the only one who knows. And the others won't be in danger because of my decision to abandon them."

Teeny shook his head. "You're not abandoning us, Eret. Your father, your brother-in-law, and you took good care of us all these years."

"But -"

"You've earned the right to start looking after yourselves. And to stop being afraid."

Eret frowned. "I'm not afraid of Drago. Just watchful."

"Sure," Teeny nodded, clearly indulging him. "None of us are."

Eret decided not to argue back. He simply hugged his friend, already fully dreading their farewell.

But he'd been thinking of seeking refuge in the Barbaric Archipelago from the moment Nilas and Rana had come into his care. To search for a better life, one without the presence of Drago Bludvist looming over them. And the deaths of his crew, his friends, his family, had turned out to be the final push he'd needed.

He wasn't going to let their deaths be in vain by letting Drago, nor last night's Shadow, destroy their future too.

* * *

Perhaps Hiccup should have handled things like a normal person. Maybe, just maybe, he should have turned things down a notch. But then again, 'normal' had never been a word that properly described him.

And he certainly wasn't going to let anyone on Berk doubt whether he was speaking the truth about what he'd done.

So, it had seemed only logical to drop a gigantic dragon head on one of its cliffs. And to wait for morning so he could sit back and watch everyone's reactions.

Of course, there had been more sensible reasons for his extravagance. He had returned in the middle of the night, and figured barging into anyone's home wouldn't make a good impression. Nor would arriving during the day with a flock of dragons. He didn't want to be seen as an invader after all. Not again.

He figured this should give people enough of a hint of the now undeniable fact that he'd completed his self-assigned hero's quest. That he'd fought for his redemption, and that he was ready to take the next step. It would give the people of Berk the time to prepare to talk to him. If they wanted to.

_Especially Astrid_.

But he definitely smirked when he watched the first Viking warrior exit her home in the morning, only to jump at least a feet or two backwards at the sight of the Red Death's skull. And she wasn't the only one.

Slowly, more and more Berkians flocked to the surprise he'd given them. Once the implications settled in, once they realised that it had to have been _him_ , their lost Chief's son, their Phantom, they looked behind them, towards Berk's mountains. They couldn't see him, nor Toothless, nor Stormfly at his side, wearing Astrid's saddle again, but he didn't doubt that they knew he was around. Like he always had been.

His old vantage point, a cave exit high above the Great Hall, had seemingly turned into public property without his approval, even featuring a large, thick log for people to sit on, so he'd had to find a new spot. But he was still watching them as closely as the Phantom used to. He studied the villagers' every movement, all their interactions. Vikings had never been particularly subtle after all, so there was loads of information to obtain, even from a distance.

It had been absolutely invaluable when he'd terrorised them as the Phantom. He'd been able to read the fear in the way they moved, how they went about their days, how they talked to each other. The air had always been heavy with it, so clear, so obvious that Toothless could basically smell it. And he'd felt it too, tasted it, thick on his tongue.

Oddly sweet. _So sweet._ Because he'd been the one to cause it, because they'd feared _him_ , because he'd finally made it clear that he couldn't be messed with, that he could, that he _would -_

"Whoah," he uttered, blinking as a shiver wrecked his body. _"_ Might not want to go there, now do I?"

Toothless bent his neck over backwards, trying to look up at his rider, but Hiccup just shook his head at his best friend. "I got this. Don't worry." He sat up straighter, shuffling in his saddle as he rubbed Toothless' chin. "I'm better than getting caught in old habits on my first day back, right bud?"

Toothless warbled supportively, but didn't avert his gaze until Hiccup conjured up an actual smile. He didn't need to lift his visor to show it; they simply read each other's eyes.

More Berkians finally awakened, and within the crowd, he now also spotted his father, supported by Gobber as they examined the Red Death's gruesome appearance. Hiccup wondered what they would think as soon as they saw past the bizarre appearance and realised what it meant, however long that might take them. Were they afraid, of him, of what he would be like when he came back? Of what his intentions were? Even though the truth was that quite frankly, he didn't really have any. There was only one person he wanted, _needed_ to see. He was used to having a plan up his sleeve, but now, he would simply go wherever she wished him to, and adjust accordingly. He hadn't really thought beyond that yet.

But she was probably still asleep.

Did his father still love him? Had he spoken the truth on the day Hiccup had decided to leave Astrid behind to fight the Red Death, alone? He'd forced himself to believe his dad had. At least in the last moment he'd said it. But there was always the possibility that he had changed his mind over the past five years. Once he'd gotten over the shock of his son being alive. Once he'd seen that Hiccup had never been quite the boy his father had thought he was. That he had turned into an even bigger disappointment than he'd been before.

_In honour of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Berk's Bravest Dragon Killer_

He didn't know if the remembrance stone and its harrowing inscription were still in the cove. He hadn't taken the time to check. But he supposed there was a certain irony in how he'd fought for years against those words, how he'd always wanted to be anything but what Berk had chosen to remember him as. And now he had become exactly what it said. Sure, he'd killed the worst of all, an evil, corrupted Alpha, but he'd still killed a dragon. While he was the man who without question loved them the most.

In hindsight, it seemed a twisted kind of prophecy. A wish made by his father for Hiccup to become more than who he had been for the fifteen years they'd known each other. Only for it to come true in this wicked yet oddly fitting way.

Still, he struggled to wrap his mind around the notion that perhaps, for the first time in his life, looking at the Chief of Berk's silhouette as he traced the Red Death's skin, his father might actually feel proud of him. The idea that he could entertain the notion that his father might still love him after all. That father-son relationships could work the way he'd been told they did. That loving your children was more like a natural force than a choice, something you simply did because that's how the world worked. And Stoick the Vast had always strongly adhered to tradition.

"But it'd be foolish to expect anything beyond that," he muttered. "It's not what I came back for. Let alone what I could _hope_ for."

He didn't need his father's respect. Not through pride, and especially not through fear. He was past that.

"It's not as if I really deserve it, after all."

He only wanted Astrid's approval.

But when the end of morning came, she still hadn't left her home.

He did see others. Silhouettes, shapes, habits he recognised. Tuffnut, yelling so loudly Hiccup could hear it from up where he was. Snotlout, who kept his distance and seemed to urge a clearly very pregnant Ruffnut to do the same.

She didn't listen.

"Should have expected that, Snotlout," he snorted. "Thorstons don't back down, not even when they're the ones _expecting_. Everybody knows that." He chuckled at his own wordplay, almost able to hear Toothless roll his eyes. "Good for them though, I suppose," he managed.

Today wasn't the day to be envious of someone having something he didn't think he ever would. He wasn't the kind of person one peacefully raised a family with. He'd once dared to dream about it, had even told Astrid about his fantasies when he'd asked her to marry him. But he'd killed that idea himself, had wrapped his scarred fingers around its precious neck. And he hadn't allowed himself to hope since.

Not for something so intangibly far away.

He spotted Fishlegs among the crowd, scribbling away eagerly, likely taking in all he could see before Spitelout - it was admirable just how irritating he could be, even from this far away - and his goons finally managed to roll the Red Death's skull into the sea, after a series of incredibly entertaining failed attempts.

Which meant it had disappeared before Astrid had seen it.

He saw her parents, though, albeit only briefly. They seemingly casually minded their own business the way Hoffersons did - _not in a way that told him their daughter had died -_ and only came out after the sun had already started to set on Berk. A Berk that was doing better than the last time he'd seen it. A Berk on which some houses were actually still the same as they had been five years earlier.

It had become an island on which some Vikings had dared to expand their properties to include farms, with actual crops growing on them. Where new houses had been built on the outskirts, significantly larger than the ones they'd lived in before, rivalling if not trumping the Chief's own. With the village's watchtowers, which hadn't stood since he'd destroyed the last one over six years ago, proudly guarding them.

It didn't take the eye of a Chief, or a former Chief's son, to see, just at a glance, that Berk was prospering. And he knew it was a result of him stopping the wars. But he couldn't dwell on it, let alone feel satisfaction because of it. He knew what a slippery slope that was. And it was more of a collateral advantage than something he had intended to do. Although he supposed this Berk did look like a place Astrid could be safe in. Which was what he'd most desperately wanted for her.

_But then why hadn't he seen her yet?_

Was she hiding from him intentionally? She had to have heard about the Red Death's head, it would be impossible for anyone not to, so that couldn't be it. Had she fallen ill, and was she unable to get out of bed? Was she waiting for him, somewhere else, somewhere he hadn't thought of, because he didn't know her as well as he thought he did, not anymore, not after all this time?

Had she moved in with someone else, was she living with a husband who had told her what he'd seen, and had they, together, decided not to lead her old lover on? Had she left Berk altogether, started travelling to complete her dream without him by her side? Did she hate him so badly that she had left the Archipelago just to lower the odds of ever seeing him again?

Had she died?

No, it had to be anything but that.

"He promised," he told himself, his chest heaving. "Dad promised he'd keep her safe. They wouldn't have executed her for treason, they wouldn't have sent her away, he promised, he _promised_."

When night finally fell, along with the comforting blanket of darkness, enveloping him, empowering him as he slowly disappeared, blended in with it, he couldn't take it anymore. He led Toothless down to the village, quiet as they'd always been, their technique perfected through years of stalking and sneaking. And soon enough, they reached the roof of the Hoffersons' house.

His feet landed softly on the timber, and for a moment, he considered knocking on it. Like he'd used to, every night he'd lured Astrid to the arena to simply get a chance to talk to her. It would be nostalgic, easy. But his nerves stopped him, his stomach twisting as his legs weakened.

_Because what if she didn't come?_

Perhaps nostalgia wasn't what he had to go for. As wonderful as it had been, he was sure there were things in their past that she wanted to hide, that she was desperate to get away from. He knew he did.

Perhaps he should simply take stock first. Observe, then act. That was something he could do.

Taking a deep breath, he lowered himself, upside down, just far enough to peak into Astrid's bedroom window.

He kept his eyes closed for just a moment, steeling himself for what he would see when he opened them.

And then he did.

Only to lay eyes on an empty room.

He almost lost his grip, just an inch short of tumbling onto the ground and likely breaking his neck, his eyes wide, his mouth agape.

There was nothing. A few chests and drawers, yes, but no bed, nothing that belonged to her, no, no -

_No Astrid._

Desperately trying to make sense of the situation, he hauled himself back up onto the roof, panting, his chest heaving, because he didn't understand. Her parents were inside, he knew that, he'd seen both of them leave and come back, separate from each other. The Hoffersons hadn't moved. But then where was Astrid, why had they cleaned out her room, where was she, why hadn't he seen her, where had she gone?

_Gods!_

Stormfly hadn't smelled her either, he'd have known it if she had, but then again, it had been almost five years, so he hadn't wanted to read too much into that. But he should have. He should have the Nadder sniff out the entire island, hoping she'd recognise Astrid's smell, and then fly her through the entire Archipelago if they didn't find Astrid on Berk, because she couldn't be dead, right?

That couldn't be a sensible explanation for her being gone, that wasn't how this was supposed to go, that wasn't what he'd fought for. He'd never thought himself superstitious, but he'd somehow always believed he'd _know_ if she died, one way or another. She was alive, she had to be, his father -

_His father had promised him nothing would happen to her._

Breathing in through his nose and clenching his jaw, he turned his head uphill. Towards the home of Berk's Chief, where a faint light still crept out of the windows. Yes, he could search the entire Archipelago. But he could also simply ask the one man who undoubtedly knew where she'd gone.

And who he knew he could get any kind of information out of, if he simply tried hard enough.


	3. Not Quite Like Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So glad to be back again and I hope you're all doing fine, and you're safe, despite all the confusing and difficult stuff that's going on in the world right now. I'm doing alright as the company I started working at two weeks ago allows me to work from home.
> 
> Also a bit of an explanation regarding that from my side; the reason that I'm only updating once every two weeks, and that chapters might sometimes be shorter than you guys were used to towards the end of Phantom1, is because I've started working 40 hours a week. So I simply can't write as much as I used to. Hence, I prefer to update more slowly, but still regularly over updating a lot in one period and then having to go on hiatus. If it turns out that I write quicker than planned after all, I can always start updating more. So that's just so you guys know where that's coming from. Currently I still have enough buffer to be able to guarantee updates for the next months.
> 
> Thank you so much for all your love and support so far! I'm especially happy about the positive responses to Eret's storyline :) I hope you enjoy this update!

Hiccup still hated the house he grew up in. Its roof, its wooden walls, the smell of the fireplace, how his bedroom window was just slightly too high up for a fifteen-year-old to properly sneak out of. Everything about it was nonsensical, insignificant, a place he shouldn't concern himself with in the slightest. But yet he couldn't seem to keep his stomach from contracting as he scaled the side of his childhood home. It couldn't be nervousness he was feeling. He had no reason to be jittery, let alone _afraid_. He simply needed answers. And he'd been here countless times before.

He landed softly on the wooden floor of the loft, neither he nor Toothless making a sound as he gently scratched his dragon's chin. Toothless let a low flame burn in his throat, giving Hiccup's unfortunately human eyes just enough light to take in their surroundings. He wasn't sure if he was surprised that nothing had changed since he'd last been here five years ago. Even though it hadn't been inhabited for eleven years, his room was clean, his worthless belongings - he'd taken everything he'd _really_ needed when he'd left - stashed away in a chest, his bed made as if it was expecting an occupant that night.

He'd considered it more than once during his years as the Phantom, to simply lie down in 'his' bed and catch a good night of sleep, knowing that his father had no idea that his dead 'dragon-killing' son was alive and right above him. But he'd figured that even he shouldn't get that cocky.

And right now the thought simply made him feel sick.

He crept towards the edge of the loft, nearing the orange glow and the heat of the hearth. His father had to be home. And he knew where Astrid was. He would have the answer Hiccup needed. That was the only reason he was here, after all.

When he peeked over the edge, his heart stopped.

_His father was there, sitting in his chair and staring at the fire._

Hiccup could only see his back. It was as broad as it had been in his memories, covered by the Chief of Berk's thick fur cloak. It wasn't anything special, he had seen it often enough, and yet he could barely suppress the kind of gasp that would've definitely given his presence away.

He still remembered the last time he'd been here. He'd gone over the memory countless times. It had given him so much satisfaction at first, how he'd talked to his father as the Phantom, hidden in the dark as he'd basically dangled his identity in front of him. But his father had never caught on. He had never considered the possibility that his useless son could have turned into the wicked terrorist he'd been forced to concede increasingly more power to. That Hiccup the Fuck-Up could become that powerful. That mighty. That strong.

But the pleasure Hiccup had gotten from that had soured on the Red Death's island, as the idea had crept into his head that he might have been wrong. And that the reason his father hadn't recognised him had been _that he'd loved his son too much to believe he'd commit the Phantom's atrocities._

Perhaps they'd both been wrong about each other.

But it didn't matter. Right now, he simply had to find out what had happened to Astrid. He couldn't let himself be held back by guilt, nor childlike nerves. Reconciling with his father wasn't his priority.

And if his father answered wrong, perhaps reconciliation wouldn't even be a possibility.

"Where is she?"

He didn't bother to alter his voice. Instead, he casually lowered himself and sat down on the edge of the loft, making himself comfortable. So it at least seemed like he was at ease.

It took his father ages to respond, the silence dragging out until Hiccup wondered if the man had heard him to begin with. But then the Chief of Berk moved, his shoulders heaving only slightly before his deep voice filled the room.

" _Hiccup?_ "

Hiccup didn't fail to notice how frail, how _weak_ his former adversary sounded. How already, after not trying particularly hard, he had gained the upper hand. But he reminded himself that it wasn't about that, that he should be above that kind of thinking, and simply repeated his question.

"Where's Astrid?"

His father finally looked over his shoulder, his green eyes widening when he gazed up at the loft, his mouth agape as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. The attention made Hiccup feel uneasy, exposed. He preferred to be in the dark. And his father's inability to respond didn't make it any better.

"I - I asked you a question," he demanded, scolding himself for the slight tremble in his voice. He mockingly clacked his tongue to recover. "Where's Astrid?"

Stoick blinked up at him, as if he had trouble understanding the question. "She's not here."

"Yes, I figured as much," he snapped. "That's why I'm asking."

"I'm sorry, I -" his father started, getting out of his chair.

"I don't need an apology, I need a proper answer," he pushed on, refusing to back down until he'd gotten what he'd come for. "I don't get why you're so surprised, surely you should have expected me."

"I did, that's why I'm still up, but -"

"Or you're scared." He narrowed his eyes. "Of what I could do if you told me the truth, and -"

"No -" His father put up his hands. "That's not it, but Hiccup, it's been five years, and I thought I was prepared but -"

" _Where is she_!?" he hissed, unclasping Inferno from his pant leg, the weight of his sword's hilt in his hand comforting, yet only slightly soothing his racing heart. "What did you do to her!?"

"Nothing, Hiccup, _please_ ," his father pleaded. "Nothing happened to her, she's just away. On a trip with Heather, to the Northern Markets."

"Who's Heather?" he asked, not quite dropping his guard, twirling Inferno's hilt around in his hand.

"Heather Ingerman, she's a merchant and good friend of Astrid's. She's from a smaller village and married Fishlegs earlier this year, and you…" His father paused for a moment, his eyes focusing on Hiccup's, some confidence coming back to them. Hiccup didn't know how to feel about that. It was an obvious loss of momentum. "You were actually the one who introduced them to each other."

He let out a silent laugh. "The girl from Snotlout's wedding?"

"Yes," Stoick nodded.

He remembered her. Long, braided black hair, a pair of deep green eyes that were as watchful as his own. She'd been eyeing the dance floor like a tracking dragon, taking in her surroundings and seemingly failing to see how Fishlegs had only had eyes for her. He'd figured he could change that, or at least help her relax the way he had that night by coercing the two of them into an awkward first dance.

That'd been the night it'd all gone wrong. The night he'd started to lose Astrid.

"So Astrid's alive?" he concluded, sounding a lot less confident than he wanted to.

"Yes, of course she is," Stoick confirmed, nodding eagerly. "I would never let anything happen to her. That's what I promised you, after all."

He looked into his father's eyes, searching for doubt, for an inch of betrayal. But he didn't find it. He just found shock, and relief. Along with a form of happiness he couldn't quite comprehend.

And which he couldn't deal with right now.

So he climbed to his feet, turning away from it.

"Where are you going?" his father blurted out.

"To find her." He needed the confirmation. He had to be sure that he wasn't being lied to before he could allow himself to truly be relieved.

"Hiccup…"

He sneaked a look over his shoulder, finding his father looking up at him in uncertainty.

"I know you're not waiting for any advice, especially mine, but…" his father hesitantly continued. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

He could feel his heart tighten, a cold hand closing around it. "Why not?"

_Had she found someone else? Did she not want to see him? Did she hate him?_

"These days away from Berk, it's something she…" His father rubbed his hands together, seemingly searching for words. "She needed it. It's important to her, and she should be back within the next few days, at most."

"So I should just _wait_?" The thought of that seemed unbearable, even just one more night without Astrid, and the answers to all the questions he had for her. Right now, it seemed crazy he'd lasted for almost five years to begin with.

"That would be my advice, yes," his father nodded. "I know it's probably not what you want to hear, but then again, it's only a few days in comparison to the years she waited for you."

His legs grew weak as his heart dropped, and he involuntarily turned around to look his father in his eyes. "She waited for me?"

"She did."

He deflated, five years of anxiety sliding off him as he fell to his knees, grasping his helmet.

 _She'd waited_.

It could mean anything, that she'd waited to get the chance to love him again, or to insult him, to tell him just how much she hated him, but it didn't matter. Just her waiting, remembering he existed, refusing to forget him… That was the only thing he'd dared to wish for.

"If I find out you lied…" he tried to threaten, but his voice came out weak, shattered.

"I'm not lying to you, Hiccup," his father calmly said, but Hiccup could see the man's eyes redden in the light of the hearth, while he felt his own doing the same.

After five years of preparation, he found himself able to believe his father's words.

A silence descended upon them, in which he didn't know what to say, nor what to do. When he'd realised today would be his first day back on Berk, he hadn't anticipated that this would be how he'd spend his evening. Trying not to burst into tears because of something his father, the man he'd hated for so many years, had said. It felt silly, childish, to be crying up on his loft, like he'd done so often as a little kid. Most recently on the day he'd finally gathered the courage to leave Berk, and had gone up to his loft just once more to sort out his belongings.

 _But Astrid Hofferson, the love of his life, had waited for him_.

"So she's - she's still living on Berk?" he repeated, because it didn't quite sound true.

His father calmly nodded. "She is."

"But her room was empty, I checked," he argued.

"She moved out of her parents' house."

That sounded somewhat logical and realistic. "And she's fine?"

"As healthy as can be."

"Does she -" _Does she still love me?_

He shook his head, unable to get the words across his lips, and altered his question. "Is she with anyone?"

He could see the sympathy, or perhaps the _pity_ , glow in his father's eyes. "No, Hiccup, she's not."

"Thank the Gods," he breathed, finding himself panting even though he was sitting completely still. That meant that however badly she hated him, he still had a chance. She hadn't replaced him with someone better. Not yet.

"I'm afraid I can't answer too many questions, though," his father awkwardly smiled. "I don't want to speak on her behalf."

"No, I get that, I'd rather talk to her too - not that I don't _want_ to talk to you - or that I _do_ , I don't know what I want, it's just weird, and not how I'd imagined this to go. Then again, I hadn't imagined much at all, because it's been so long, and I…" he trailed off, making empty gestures with his hands as if that'd somehow make him seem like less of a fool.

"Don't worry," his father softly said. "I wish she'd been here for you too."

"I guess timing still isn't my strongest point," he tried to quip to hide his unease. "Like that time at Mildew's second wedding."

The corners of his father's mouth pulled up. "I wouldn't quite say this is as bad as that. None of the sheep are on fire, for one."

" _Yet_ ," he chuckled, biting his lip as his father joined him. It almost felt comfortable. Oddly so.

He took a deep breath, trying to break the moment. He couldn't lose himself. "I guess I'll wait then. Maybe it won't hurt to listen to you, just this once."

His father's eyes widened slightly, uncertainty striking his expression. But his mouth stayed closed.

"What is it?" Hiccup prodded.

"I'd like to ask you something."

"Seems fair after what I just did," he shrugged. "I'm not too proud to admit I didn't exactly use the kindest approach to get the answers I wanted."

But he'd rather force weakness upon others than let down his guard himself. There was still a huge gap between no longer being constantly spiteful, and becoming blatantly naive.

His father's back heaved as he audibly sighed. "Could you take off your helmet?"

Hiccup froze in place, staring at his hands and recalling the last and only time he'd been unmasked in front of his father. Almost five years ago. When Astrid had torn his helmet off his head, the one thing separating him from the world that'd always been out to get him. Because she was afraid he'd abuse his anonymity to gain the confidence to kill his own father.

He believed her fear had been justified.

But this was just a question. He had a choice. He could say 'no' if he wanted to, run away yet again. But his fear didn't make any sense. His father knew who he was. He knew what he looked like. All he was doing now, was hiding the scars his dad already knew he had.

Cursing himself for how they trembled, he lifted his hands to his face, his gloved fingertips tracing the dragon scales on his helmet. He breathed in, and as the air left his lungs, he pulled off his helmet, looking down as he was left bare and defenceless.

Toothless crooned as he handed the useless piece of armour to the dragon, but he didn't dare to look up. The silence that followed was worse than any comment he could've gotten about just how hideous his scars looked, and how they certainly hadn't done him any favours.

As much as he didn't want it, he needed his father to say something. Anything.

"Left speechless, huh?" he quipped, trying to sound confident.

"The loft, it's too dark, I -" his father answered, his voice choked. "I can't really see you."

His heart tightened involuntarily. "I could come down, I suppose," he murmured.

He could hardly hear his father when he replied. " _Please."_

He nodded to himself, climbing to his feet and putting his hand on Toothless' snout, craving his best friend's soothing presence. Slowly, he took his first steps down the familiar staircase. When he dared to look up, he found his father guardedly eyeing the Night Fury following right behind him. But the man didn't say anything, not even as Toothless sniffed out his surroundings while keeping his eyes fixated on the Viking Hiccup had told him was their enemy for so long. Instead, his father seemed to actually accept the dragon in his house.

That gave Hiccup the strength to stand up straight as he reached the ground floor of his former home. Standing there in front of his father, no longer with his shoulders slumped, or as the runt everyone had always looked down on. But as the man he knew he'd become, however complicated.

Stoick the Vast, the mighty Chief of Berk, simply stared at him, sucking in a silent breath as his eyes surveyed whatever it was he saw in front of him. The former Phantom of the Arena. The terrorist who had tormented him and his village for two years. Who had been here, in this very room, many times before, making the Chief's life more difficult by leaving a taunting note or by belittling him in an actual 'conversation'. The villain who'd insinuated that he'd been raping Astrid, and that he would do the same to every other Berkian if given a reason to.

Hiccup saw tears well up in his father's eyes as he finally seemed to remember the man his son was. The person Hiccup had been okay with being for way too long. His father was reminded of all the atrocities his son had committed, and whatever positive message the Viking Chief had told himself over the past five years, undoubtedly evaporated.

But when he finally spoke up, his father's words left Hiccup breathless instead.

" _You're all grown-up._ "

There was an emotional depth in the phrase, a sign of someone being moved in a way Hiccup couldn't wrap his head around. Because he didn't deserve the joy in his father's gaze, nor the grin that was emerging through the cover of his beard.

"Yeah," he plainly shrugged. "I suppose so. It's been a while, after all."

" _Eleven years_ ," his father whispered.

He wanted to correct his father, tell him that it had only been five, remind him of the interactions they'd had during his reign of terror as the Phantom. But he couldn't. As he registered the streaks of grey in his father's beard, the lines in the face of someone who had clearly gotten older, it dawned on him that it had really been eleven years. Eleven years since they'd _actually_ talked to each other. Eleven years since they'd stood across from each other in the relative absence of mutual anger and hate.

But he could see a glimmer in his father's eyes of what he'd told Hiccup on that cliff, five years ago, before Hiccup had abandoned Astrid on Berk. What Hiccup had spent the past five years trying to make himself believe.

That despite everything he'd done, his father still loved him.

He didn't know what to do with that knowledge. He didn't know how to handle his stinging eyes, nor the choked breath that left him.

"I'm sorry," he sniffed as a single tear slid down his scarred cheek. "I messed up so much, did so much I shouldn't, and I don't know how to make it up, or if I can, I accused you of so many things, and I don't know why, I just couldn't imagine, I -"

"It's okay," his dad shushed him.

He smiled wryly. "It can't be okay. It's not that easy, too much has happened."

"I know, and you're right," his father sighed. "But we don't have to talk about it right now. There'll be a time for that. But not today."

 _If I don't run away, again_.

He felt something brush his shoulder, and his eyes flickered down to find his father's hand there. Instinctively, he backed away, bumping into Toothless, who instantly growled protectively.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, putting his hand on Toothless' snout to calm him down. "I'm very jittery, and -"

"No, I'm sorry, I should have asked," his father countered, taking a few steps backwards, his eyes still on the Night Fury.

"This -" He cleared his throat. "This is Toothless."

"I know," his dad nodded. "Astrid's told me all about him."

"Only good things, I hope," he tried to joke, attempting to shrug off the notion that _Astrid had told stories about him_. He should have expected that. The real question was what stories she'd told.

_Chief, your son fled the Archipelago only to end up as a male prostitute. He slept with women for money, and with a guy simply for pleasure, who he killed before he came to haunt us as the Phantom._

"She told me that dragon saved your life. On multiple occasions," his father answered instead. "More often than I could possibly thank him for."

Hiccup swallowed thickly, because it was true. If it hadn't been for Toothless, he wouldn't have been here today. That was one thing he was absolutely sure of.

"You can touch him, if you'd like," he proposed. "Properly say 'hello'."

His father smiled uneasily. "There'll be a time for that too."

Despite the rejection, he smiled, because it wasn't a complete 'no' either. It was more than he ever could have imagined.

So they simply stood there, neither of them properly knowing what to say. It made Hiccup feel awkward, and restless. But it also felt ironically familiar.

Which made him want to get as far away from here as possible.

He rubbed the back of his head. "Is there anything else I should know?"

His father stayed silent for a moment, but finally shook his head. "Nothing that requires your attention tonight."

He pulled up the eyebrow he knew he no longer had. "That sounds like there _are_ things I should know."

"Well, a lot happens in five years. Of various degrees of urgency. It's hard to sum it all up, especially on a night like this."

"I suppose…" he murmured, forcing down the voice in his head that told him he should get suspicious, that he should press for answers.

"And you should probably talk to Astrid first," his father added. "Before any of the other Berkians too, I think, if you even want to talk to them. They obviously figured out that it was you who dropped the dragon's head, but I don't know if they're quite ready for more than that… yet."

"Likewise," he nodded. "I suppose I'll just survey the straits a bit, see if anything's changed from, you know…" He awkwardly pointed at the ceiling. "… up there. Until Astrid's back."

"Yes, that seems good." His father rubbed his hands together. "Is there anything else you need? If you're hurt, Gothi wouldn't tell on you…"

He shook his head. "I'm good." He added a lopsided smile. "I can take a hit these days."

"A place to sleep?" his father asked, hopefulness glimmering in his eyes.

"I'll sleep outside." He shrugged, pretending not to notice the slight drop in his father's expression. "I'm used to it, and this place it… It just doesn't quite feel like home either."

"No, I get that." His father cleared his throat. "You should do what makes you feel comfortable, I suppose."

"I will," he nodded, glancing at the stairs. "I'm gonna get going, then."

"Alright," his father nodded. "Again, if there's anything you need -"

"I'll come and find you," he quickly agreed, making his way up with Toothless following after him. He registered how his father jumped back as Toothless' tail almost hit him, then turned his gaze towards the loft's window and quickened his pace.

He was already halfway out of it when he heard a call.

"Good night, son."

He paused and took a deep breath, willing himself to at least stay polite.

"You too."

Before his father could say anything else, Hiccup finally slipped out of the house, back into the familiarity of darkness and solitude. Up into a sky that felt so much more like home than anything on Berk ever had. Or ever could.


	4. The Cove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being back and for your continued support! I hope you're all doing well and that you're staying strong through all the lockdowns going on in the world.
> 
> I know some people are asking when Astrid will show up; we'll get there, don't worry! But Astrid's the kind of character that once she's 'in' the story, she's massively influential because she's so important to Hiccup. And I feel there's great merit in enabling scenes like the one last chapter, with Stoick and Hiccup solely talking to each other instead of Astrid possibly serving as 'buffer'. But of course she'll show up soon because I love her and can't wait to get back to her! :)

Although he felt a lot better the following morning, Hiccup still didn't know what to think about the events of the night before. As far as first impressions went, he hadn't made a great one. Charging into his father's home with demands instead of gentle questions, almost losing his cool when he didn't get his answers quickly enough. Lashing out because he'd been scared. That Astrid had died. That his father had had something to do with it. That he'd been betrayed, yet again, the one promise he'd asked his father to make broken. All the years he'd spent away wasted, because what good was a new world if it no longer had Astrid in it?

But she'd waited for him.

And somehow, in the midst of all of that craziness, he'd talked to his father. He'd apologised to him, and for the first time in eleven years, it had somewhat felt like the air between them wasn't cooling down any further. Or heating up, depending on your point of view. It'd almost seemed as if there was a chance that they would maybe, one day, see eye to eye on something. Perhaps even on dragons.

He couldn't allow himself to be that naive, but he also couldn't deny that one of Berk's most successful dragon killers hadn't even raised a finger towards Toothless; instead, he'd accepted him just being there. And Hiccup had to keep writing off the thought that Stoick the Vast had only done that to gain the Phantom's trust. To lure him into a trap and make him pay for his mistakes.

Because he knew it wasn't like that. He was no longer the man who refused to believe his father could have changed, if only a little. And he was sure he had Astrid to thank for that. He hadn't really made a good impression himself, after all.

_And yet Astrid had waited for him._

She wanted to see him again. And as tough as it was knowing that, he figured that for once, it wouldn't hurt to listen to his father. After all, what were a few days compared to the almost five years they'd spent apart?

Unfortunately, that thought didn't change the fact that by the afternoon of the next day, he was starting to get bored. And he'd already slept in, which was something he _never_ did. Not if he slept alone, at least.

Watching Berk from above killed some time, but not enough of it; he'd already mapped out all of the infrastructure changes in his head, and while he could still see people, he couldn't catch their expressions, nor their voices, leaving him to interpret their body language only. But he was too out of touch with most of them to derive anything new, other than what he'd already seen the day before.

For a moment, he considered gliding down to the village. So he could sneak around and abuse his tunnel system to get in closer without being noticed. But from what he'd seen, his tunnels were no longer solely his - again without him getting to cast a vote on it - and if he really wanted to be a changed man, perhaps spying on everyone wasn't the right move.

Everything he needed to know, he would surely find out with time. He just had to wait, as hard as it was to sit around and do nothing. He had to channel some of the patience he'd had while dealing with the Red Death.

But dragons were easy. And humans, Vikings in particular, were much, _much_ harder.

He let his gaze wander towards the far side of the island, intuitively scanning Berk's dense forests for the little clearing in the middle of the trees. The place he'd loved, and had later come to hate because of how his father had tainted it. But when his eyes found the all-too-familiar spot with ease, he decided that it wouldn't be that bad to revisit after all.

He nudged Toothless to glide downward, the two of them staying low and circling the cliffs before soaring over the treetops. Not that anyone was ever looking towards the sky the way Hiccup did. Still, he'd rather be safe than sorry. He shouldn't discount the possibility that that, too, had changed over the past couple of years.

Toothless warbled happily when they descended into the cove. Hiccup rolled his eyes and patted the dragon's neck. "As if you didn't know where we were going already. You're flying this thing too, remember?"

They circled the area to confirm they were indeed alone, and then skimmed over the pond, the tips of Toothless' wings just breaking the water's surface. Hiccup took off his right glove and leant sidewards to let his scarred fingertips trail through the fresh water, finding it pleasantly lukewarm as it flowed between his fingers. He released the straps that secured his feet to the pedals, freeing them from the one safety measure he'd taken for spying on villages, hanging from a cliff. In the air, he only needed his own set of wings.

Flying was all about danger assessment. And after eleven years, there wasn't much that could surprise him anymore.

As if the dragon had read his mind and had set his own on proving him wrong, Toothless made an abrupt tight turn, sending Hiccup flying as he yelped in surprise. He'd only just started reaching for the straps of his flight suit when he hit the water with a loud _splash._

He gasped as he came back up for air and frantically looked around from behind the hair stuck to his forehead, in search of an explanation. And broke into a chuckle when he caught sight of his drenched dragon, wading towards him with a proud, gummy smile.

"Good to see at least one of us hasn't grown up since we first 'flew' together all those years ago," he teased.

Toothless moved one of his wings, but Hiccup ducked under, avoiding the retaliatory splash and throwing water right back at his best friend when he came back up. Judging by the look on Toothless' face, he didn't quite agree with that course of events.

They continued to wrestle and tease each other, laughing as both of them somehow ended up even more drenched than before. Eventually, exhaustion and cold settling into his bones, Hiccup swam towards the shore. Toothless gave his best Scauldron impression as he got out, almost making him fall flat on his face when the water hit his back. He stuck out his tongue towards the dragon, removed his helmet, and shook his head, getting rid of most of the water as he quickly took apart Inferno, confirming none of its vital parts had been soaked. Some of it needed oiling, and he couldn't wait to get around to that, but this wasn't the way to do it.

He looked around, a satisfied smile spreading across his lips as he surveyed the cove. It was exactly like he remembered. Frozen in time, the only thing that had changed in the past eleven years being the removal of the shield he'd clumsily lodged between two rocks at its entrance. And of course, his remembrance stone.

_In honour of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III_

_Berk's Bravest Dragon Killer_

He found he no longer minded the text. Because it was finally true. And if people chose to remember him for killing that one Alpha that had tormented both Vikings and dragons for so many generations, then he'd settle for that. It was a lot better than being remembered as a Viking-hating terrorist, he supposed.

He sat back against the stone, comfortably leaning against it as Toothless continued to splash around behind him.

"It feels good to be here again," he murmured to himself. "Now that the memories are no longer tainted, and I can just… Enjoy them."

He remembered it all like it was only yesterday. How he'd been both scared and incredibly excited to find Toothless there on that first day, wondering why the dragon was sticking around. Then he'd spotted his missing tail, had instantly realised he'd done that and, more disturbingly, _had felt incredibly sorry for it_.

He recalled how they'd locked eyes from a distance, and how that look had stayed with him from that moment on. Prompting him to seek out the dragon again the next day and end up swallowing a way too large bite of slimy, raw, regurgitated fish.

He'd been lost from that moment, and had only fallen further down.

"Or risen above myself, perhaps."

All the afternoons he'd spent in the cove, observing Toothless, learning who he was and interacting with him, closing that gap bit by bit until it had felt no more than simply right - although still thoroughly nerve-wracking - to extend his palm towards the Unholy Offspring of Lightning and Death itself. And his entire world had changed when Toothless had pressed his snout against it.

He let his hand trail over the scars on his face, once again mapping out every line as if he hadn't already memorised them long ago. As if on some days, he didn't catch himself by surprise when he found smooth skin under his fingertips, rather than the physical manifestation of his twisted soul.

He'd been through a lot since he'd met Toothless. Lost a lot. But it was the one thing he'd do again, and again, no matter how many new attempts at life he might get. Because he couldn't imagine a world without his best friend in it.

"I love you, Bud," he told the dragon, who warbled an 'I love you too' in return.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the sun on his face as he waited for his hair and armour to dry, allowing himself to slightly doze off. He went back to those first attempts at getting Toothless back into the air, at all the failures they'd gone through before they'd finally made it out of the cove. Let alone gone for an _actual_ flight, the first of which had gone anything but smoothly. But he'd adored every second of it. The wind on his face, the saltiness of the sea in his nostrils, the two people shouting in the distance…

His eyes flew open and he put up his hand. Toothless instantly stopped moving, not a sound in the air for a mere moment. And then he heard it. A clear, audible "Wait up!", echoing through the forest. Louder than before.

Coming towards them.

"Hide!" he hissed at Toothless as he scrambled to his feet, the distance between them too big for them to reconnect and fly away unseen. He sprinted after his dragon, the two of them disappearing behind a boulder in the back end of the cove. Dying to get a read on the situation, he peeked over the top of it, and spotted a figure at the top of the cove's entrance.

A child.

He relaxed slightly, as the kid didn't seem to have seen him or the large black dragon currently breathing down his neck. Good. Now they just had to get out of here. Although it could never pose a threat to him, he didn't want a random child to be the second person on Berk to see him.

"Hey, H!" Hiccup's heart skipped a beat, before he realised the kid's name probably started with an _H._ "Not so fast!" he heard, coming from the forest once again.

He furrowed his brows, a surprised whisper escaping him. "Tuffnut?"

"I can do it myself!" the child - a boy - shouted back before he started to make his way down the cliff at the cove's entrance.

"I know you can, but your mother will kill me if she finds out I let you," the man repeated, and surely, Tuffnut Thorston appeared at the top of the cliff, gesturing at the boy, who was climbing down a lot faster than Hiccup would have thought such a tiny person could. Let alone should.

"Tuffnut has a son?" he murmured, but Toothless just huffed, also clueless. "Kid doesn't look much like him."

Based on his height, the boy couldn't be older than four, five at best. So he'd likely been born after the Phantom had left Berk. Hiccup searched his memory, wondering if he'd ever seen Tuffnut with a woman whose hair remotely resembled the kid's unruly mop of auburn. He'd seen Tuffnut with many children today and yesterday, but when it came to a wife, he came up empty-handed.

"I didn't think he even liked women to begin with," he confessed, recalling the time Tuffnut had unknowingly flirted with the Phantom with a grin. "Guess we learn something new every day."

"Then I want to fly down," the boy insisted, pausing on the edge of one of the rocks, leaning forward and peering down in a way that made Hiccup's stomach churn.

Tuffnut caught up with him, grabbed the boy's arm and gently pulled him back. "You can't fly. You're not a dragon."

"But I want to be a dragon!"

Tuffnut knelt down and put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "And I will still love you even if your breath smells like rotten fish, Little Hamster. But if you want to fly, you should grow some wings first."

"So I should eat more fish?"

Hiccup grinned. The kid wouldn't be saying that if he had any idea what a dragon's diet was actually like.

"No, then you'll get sick, and we don't want that, now do we?" The boy shook his head, his hair flopping around. Tuffnut leaned in, pretending to whisper. "Although between you and me, it's probably not that much worse than your mom's cooking."

"Berkian women and being bad cooks. Name a better duo," Hiccup chuckled. "According to dad, mom wasn't exactly stellar, and well…. You know Astrid." Toothless crooned, and they shuddered in unison as they thought back to the fish stew she'd once tried to make.

The boy laughed loudly. "I'm gonna tell Mum you said that!"

"Go ahead, snitch," Tuffnut teased, poking the boy's chest. "I can take her on any day."

The boy shook his head. "You can't! No one can!"

"Are you doubting my mighty Thorston blood? There's 'Thor' in my name for a reason, you know!" Tuffnut caught the boy in his arms, tickling him. "Are you, huh?"

"Stop!" the boy laughed, swatting at his father. "Uncle Tuff!"

Or not his father, apparently.

Hiccup bit his lip. Perhaps the boy was one of Ruffnut's, then? But he thought he'd seen Snotlout with a girl of about the same age as the boy… Although twins did run in the Thorston family. They could be regular siblings too, of course.

He felt like he should leave instead of prying into this boy's life. Not even the Phantom had ever been particularly concerned about children, and this somehow seemed private, like something he shouldn't see. But he simply _couldn't_ tear his eyes away from Tuffnut and the kid, feeling oddly bound and fascinated. It also at least mildly annoyed him that he couldn't properly place the boy. Even though a voice in the back of his head told him the answer was obvious.

So he quietly retrieved one of his Changewing skins and hung it over his head, allowing him to blend in with his surroundings and creep forward so he could get a better look. Behind him, Toothless warbled curiously, but he nudged the dragon back with his foot, telling him it wasn't safe enough.

"Alright, wait here," Tuffnut told the boy before he climbed down the remaining rocks, opening up his arms when he reached the bottom. "Ready when you are!"

The boy leapt forward, landing in Tuffnut's arms. He spun the two of them around, keeping the boy high up in the air and making him squeal in delight until Tuffnut finally put him down. He visibly swayed on his feet as he tried to regain his balance.

Hiccup could see the comedic duo more clearly now. Tuffnut was still wearing his usual disorganised combination of a tunic, vest and lustrous assortment of spiked accessories. The boy was dressed a lot more conservatively. He wore a dark red tunic, half of it tucked into a pair of brown pants, the other half unintentionally hanging out, a leather satchel with the crest of Berk on it slung over his shoulder. Thanking his good eyes, Hiccup easily spotted the smattering of freckles on the bridge of the boy's small nose, the tips of his big ears peeking through his copper hair, and his emerald green eyes, curiously taking in his surroundings.

In a way, the boy struck him as oddly familiar. Then again, he had likely once met a Thorston who looked just like him, given how colourful and diverse the family was. Tuffnut and Ruffnut were rather tame by comparison. Or so he'd been told, by enough sources to make the stories believable.

"Go on," Tuffnut gestured in front of him as he sat down in the grass. "We're here for you, after all."

The boy adamantly shook his head. "Not for me. For Daddy."

"Because _you_ want to talk to him, Hamish," Tuffnut pointed out.

Hamish. _Huh._ Hiccup could understand that name becoming fashionable again after he'd personally destroyed the portraits of his ancestors, Hamish I and Hamish II, five years ago. But it seemed like such an unusual name for Ruffnut and Snotlout to give to their son. Especially if he was their firstborn, which would make him Snotlout's heir. It'd be more logical for him to be named in the -lout tradition. But perhaps they had wanted to give off a clear sign by naming him after the great Haddock Chiefs, who had been disgraced by their actual descendant.

"How un-Thorstonly political," he muttered.

The boy nodded and slowly walked forward to the edge of the pond, looking down and fidgeting with his hands. Eventually, he stopped in front of _Hiccup's_ remembrance stone, a bright lopsided smile spreading across his face. "Hi Daddy."

Hiccup furrowed his brows, because all of _this_ was only making less and less sense the longer he watched. Was the boy's father dead? Had his stone become a place to go to to think of other dead, or presumed-dead, people?

"Mama's not here, but she said it's okay if I go alone," the boy - Hamish - continued.

Only to be corrected by Tuffnut. "If _someone else_ goes with you!"

Hamish huffed, looking back at Tuffnut. "But I know the way!"

"And you can go alone when you're older. Until then, you can _show an adult_ how to get here whenever you want," Tuffnut quipped.

"I'm old enough," Hamish insisted.

"I disagree. And so does your mother. And while she's not the boss of me, she's certainly got something to say about you."

Hamish frowned angrily, but Tuffnut simply grinned at him in response. "So what did you want to say to your dad?" Tuffnut urged him on.

The boy wavered for a moment, his brows furrowing as he appeared to be thinking very hard about something. But then his face opened up into a wide smile. He fumbled with his satchel, retrieving something black from it, and walked closer to the stone, proudly holding it up.

Hiccup squinted, trying to make out what it was.

And then the boy spoke.

"Look, Daddy, I brought Mini-Toothless!"

Hiccup only vaguely heard how Toothless purred in response to the boy. Because right then, the ground underneath him disappeared, and the entire world along with it. Until there was nothing left but that boy, and the little statuette he held in his hands.

Of a Night Fury.

Which Hiccup had carved and painted for Astrid as a Snoggletog present over five years ago.

"Mummy told me to take care of him while she's gone -"

The boy's mother was gone.

Hiccup had given that statuette to Astrid.

And Astrid was gone too.

_That boy was Astrid's son._

But he didn't have her beautiful blond hair, her gorgeous blue eyes, her adorable but slightly oversized ears… No, he did have those, so the boy could be hers, but then where did he get the rest?

He thought she'd waited for him, that she -

"- like you look after real Toothless!"

 _You_.

The boy was talking to his father.

Who probably had auburn hair, and a pair of green eyes.

Who wasn't there.

Whose dragon, named Toothless, was worriedly nudging Hiccup's side, sensing his rider's distress.

The boy was talking to _him._

_Because he was his father._

He hardly heard what the boy - Hamish, _his_ son, named after _his_ ancestors - said after that. He simply stared, unable to move, his breath coming out in short pants. Hamish rambled, his tiny hands moving along as he talked, as if this was completely ordinary to him, as if he'd somehow picked up Hiccup's habits, as if Hiccup's - as if _the boy's father's -_ world wasn't completely falling apart at that very moment. Because it didn't make sense.

He couldn't have a son. It was impossible.

He crumbled to the ground, pressing his hands to his ears, because he couldn't listen. He didn't want to hear another word of the boy babbling about how he was _sure_ he'd seen a dragon the other day, and the games he'd played with Grandpa that morning.

Because this wasn't really happening. The Gods were playing a trick on him, or his mind was, yet again. He was seeing things, hearing things, deluding himself into picturing something that wasn't there. That didn't exist, that wasn't true, because it couldn't be true. He would've known if Astrid had been pregnant, he would've known if he was a father, she would have told him, he would have _felt_ it.

He didn't deserve her. Let alone a family with her. So it couldn't be real.

But no matter how often he pinched himself, they didn't go away. The boy, Tuffnut, and the tiny wooden Night Fury stayed right where they were. He wanted to flee, but he couldn't, they would see him, and he didn't know what happened if delusions spotted the person who was deluding them. That thought made little sense, but -

Oh Gods.

_Oh, Gods._

He turned his eyes towards the sky, trying to snap himself out of his panic, the overwhelming pain in his chest and the nausea in his stomach, willing himself to focus on anything but the scene in front of him. But the sun moved too slowly, and time along with it, so he had no choice but to waste away, waiting, praying, asking the Gods what they'd brought down on him this time, if they weren't done with him yet.

Until finally, his nightmarish visions left.

Tuffnut picked up the boy, and, although reluctantly, he eventually stopped struggling, keeping Mini-Toothless clutched to his chest as Tuffnut carried him towards the cove's exit. They exchanged some words, and the boy waved in the direction of the pond.

Hiccup only just prevented himself from waving back.

As soon as he and Tuffnut were out of sight, Hiccup jumped on Toothless' back and took to the air, the wind in his face not waking him up like he'd hoped it would.

So he simply flew West. Hoping to go back to the nightmare he'd come from. The one he was familiar with, the one he could deal with. Because he couldn't handle this one.

Tuffnut had called out the boy's full name before they'd left.

Hamish Hofferson.

* * *

Hiccup flew until nightfall, until the comfort of darkness surrounded him again, his hair growing damp as he surged through the thick mist that separated the Archipelago from a world that made sense, which he knew his place in. Where he knew who he was. The commander of an army of faithful dragons, fighting the Archipelago's worst enemy.

Who was dead.

There was nothing there anymore. But that was the tempting thing. No people, no new truths. No Astrid, no - no -

_Hamish Hofferson._

He banished the image of the boy from his mind, of his bright smile and vibrant green eyes. He couldn't be a father. It was the last thing he could be. He hardly knew how to handle life himself; how was he supposed to show someone else the way?

It had to be a mistake. He had jumped to the wrong conclusions, had unconsciously looked too desperately for a reason that would bind Astrid to him. And it had miraculously manifested into a _child_.

Yet it had all seemed too real. Hamish's auburn hair, his freckles, Astrid's cute nose and floppy ears. How he'd talked about wanting to be a dragon - it had to mean he knew stories about them - and Mini-Toothless… The way he'd held it, smiling so proudly. So happy to be _talking to his father._

He didn't know why the boy was talking to that father in the first place. If he hadn't been around, if they had never met each other, how could there be a connection? How could he be that person Hamish seemed to be so eager to tell his stories too?

But the longer he flew, the further away he got, the more he realised he was only trying to fool himself.

He slowed down, his chest heaving. He balled his fists, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm a father."

He deflated when the words left him, letting himself fall forward onto Toothless' head. The dragon warbled his agreement.

"You could've told me that right away, you know," he lamented. "But I suppose we could both use a flight after that."

"Who else do you think knows?" he wondered. "Hamish didn't refer to me as 'Hiccup', so I don't know if he knows my name, but Tuffnut, he… Now that I think about it, he looked like he knew. And if he knows, then dad knows, Gobber, and…"

He paused, his breath catching and eyes widening. " _Dad knows._ "

He sat back up, his hands closing around Toothless' saddle as he yanked on it, instantly turning them around. " _He lied to me_."

He could feel his knuckles whiten as he held on tighter, lowering himself to the saddle as he urged Toothless to move faster.

Back to Berk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [aleteia-ff](https://aleteia-ff.tumblr.com/)! I intend to do Six Sentence Sunday there every Sunday, which will give you all a bit of a preview of what's yet to come! 
> 
> If you want to discuss the fic with me and other people, you are also welcome to join us on the [A Thing Of Vikings Discord Server](https://discordapp.com/invite/xVuZfK2), in the channel #aleteias-fics!
> 
> The story will be updated on Saturday two weeks from now, around 6 PM Central European (Summer) Time! ([What time is that for me?](https://www.timeanddate.com/worldclock/fixedtime.html?msg=The+Phantom+of+the+Archipelago+Update&iso=20200404T18&p1=16))


	5. Two Fathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments and your love! I can report that I finished the draft versions of all the chapters of Act 1 (up until Chapter 12), so there should be enough buffer over the next months. So even though I'm still quite busy in real life, I can guarantee updates for the weeks to come! :)
> 
> Also, The Phantom of the Arena reached 900 kudos today here on AO3, so another super thank you for all of your continued support ever since I started writing! It really means the world <3

"Why didn't you tell me!?"

Stoick had seen the image in front of him many times before. In his dreams, but more prominently in his nightmares. Him, sitting in his chair, facing the Phantom. His enemy's face distorted with anger, his too-green blazing eyes consuming his own. The tip of his blazing sword aimed straight at him, again, just like on that fateful day almost five years ago, on which he'd both lost and found his son.

The heat of the flames made him pointedly aware of how this, unlike his dreams, was real. The scar in his right shoulder tingled unpleasantly, the memory of his wound still fresh. He hadn't heard Hiccup come into his home. And judging by the look on his and his dragon's faces, the animal's teeth exposed, he also hadn't been supposed to.

He found himself at an unfortunate loss of words, and swallowed carefully, trying not to seem afraid.

Part of him definitely was.

"What do you mean?"

He already knew the answer. He had a very good guess at what had set Hiccup off. He could have imagined himself reacting the same way.

He just hadn't expected Hiccup to find out this quickly.

"Hamish," Hiccup hissed. "Hamish _fucking_ Hofferson. He's mine, isn't he!?"

This wasn't how Stoick had expected his grandson's name to first leave Hiccup's lips. He'd imagined many scenarios, from his son breaking down crying realising he was a father, just like Stoick himself had the day Hiccup was born, to Hiccup deciding he didn't want anything to do with the boy. He'd prepared himself for many things. But not for this.

Behind his helmet, Hiccup's brows furrowed further when Stoick stayed silent.

"Hiccup -" he tried.

"Oh, don't bother, _dad_ ," Hiccup spat, his cold tone sending a shiver down Stoick's spine. "Don't even try to lie to me, because you're ridiculously bad at it. Gods, why do I do the same thing again, and again? I believed you, yesterday!" He put on a mocking accent, sounding eerily close to the Phantom. "Oh, no, Hiccup, I don't have anything important to tell you! Nothing you should know around here, absolutely not! The fact that you have a _son_ is just something trivial, after all! I would know, since I never particularly cared for my own!" Hiccup grabbed his helmet with his free hand, his entire body screaming with a kind of hurt Stoick couldn't blame him for."Fuck, I should have known, I should have known, I -"

"Hiccup!" Stoick yelled over him, trying not to pay attention to the quivering sword in his son's hand. "I _promised_ Astrid I wouldn't tell you!"

Hiccup's eyes widened, his sword slipping slightly from his grip. When he spoke again, his voice broke. " _What?"_

"I promised her _I_ wouldn't tell you," he clarified, still frozen in his seat. "We agreed, years ago already, that no matter what happened, she would be the one to tell you about Hamish…"

"But she's not here." Hiccup closed his eyes, his voice a low whisper. "You could have told me…"

He took a deep breath, relieved that he seemed to have defused Hiccup at least a little. Something he'd never been able to do with the Phantom before. "I'm sorry, Hiccup. Astrid and I had never considered the scenario that she wouldn't be on Berk when you came back, because she's always here… I wanted to tell you, believe me, I've been wishing for you to know since the moment I did."

Hiccup opened his eyes again, the look on his face pained. "But then why didn't you?"

"Because she's Hamish's mother. And I made a promise to her." He sighed. "I don't want to betray what little trust you might have in me, Hiccup, but I also want to keep my promises. And I have since the day I promised you I would make sure nothing happened to Astrid. And I did my best to do the same for Hamish, too."

" _Fuck_ ," Hiccup muttered under his breath, clenching his eyes shut. His sword retracted back into its hilt, after which he pressed both of his hands to his face. "She's a mother," he whispered. "She had a baby. And I… I…" He stumbled backwards, bumping into his dragon. " _I wasn't there_."

The Night Fury purred in what Stoick could only decipher as concern, prompting him to get up from his chair as well. He wanted to reach for Hiccup, to wrap his arms around him and hug him, tell him it was going to be fine, pretending that he didn't know how complicated the situation with Hamish actually was. But he remembered how Hiccup had shied away the night before, and as his dragon curled around him, Stoick realised that it wasn't his place to give what little comfort he could provide.

Instead, he crossed the room and grabbed the wooden chair Astrid usually chose when she came over. He shuffled closer to Hiccup, who was still leaning against the Night Fury, his face buried in his hands.

Stoick cleared his throat. "Do you want to…?" When Hiccup looked up, the rims of his eyes red behind the visor of his helmet, he simply gestured with the chair. Hiccup nodded, taking it from him and sitting down, his dragon's head in his lap.

Stoick went back to his own seat, and for a while, they simply sat there as he absentmindedly poked the hearth. Hiccup was staring straight ahead, his expression hard to decipher with his helmet still on. Stoick wanted to ask him what he was thinking, to help him, but he didn't know how. He knew how to give orders, how to be Chief, but this kind of _fragile_ communication, especially with Hiccup… That was something he had never excelled at.

And he still blamed himself for that every day. Knowing that if he'd been better, if he'd supported Hiccup the way a father should, that his son might never have run away to begin with. That he would have remained safely on Berk, instead of going through the hardships and atrocities he'd experienced in his years away.

If only Val had still been there. To tell Hiccup it was okay to be different, that Hiccup wasn't the only one who looked for a more peaceful solution to the dragon war. Not that she'd been crazy enough to try to ride one, but he still couldn't shake the thought that if she'd been there for Hiccup, she might have understood. While Stoick himself never had.

He wanted to try now. But he also had to admit himself that perhaps, he couldn't possibly understand the pain Hiccup was going through. The thought of only finding out he had a son years after he'd been born, that he had left the woman he loved to raise him alone… He didn't know if he could ever forgive himself.

And it tore him apart to admit he didn't know his own son well enough to make a guess at whether Hiccup would be able to deal with it. Especially given the way he'd 'dealt' with his demons before.

He figured only time could tell.

So he waited, listening to how the dragon in front of him crooned as Hiccup scratched his scales. The sight remained incredibly strange to him, despite all the dragon stories Astrid had told him. He believed what she'd said about the bond Hiccup and the Night Fury - _Toothless_ , he reminded himself - shared. But seeing the one thing he'd been told all his life was impossible, a bond between dragon and human, come to life before his eyes still felt oddly unreal. But he supposed he had to get used to it. He hoped he had to get used to it. Because it would mean Hiccup stayed on Berk, and actually spent time with his father.

He would give anything for that to happen. Anything for just another moment with the young man sitting in front of him, who was in many ways different from the boy he'd raised; a man with a set of scars and a look in his eyes that told the world he'd seen more than he should have. But who Stoick believed - _knew_ from the stories Astrid had told him - that beyond that hardened exterior, was still fundamentally Hiccup.

 _Gods,_ he'd missed him.

He quickly wiped his eyes when Hiccup suddenly spoke up again, his voice hoarse. "Did she know?"

"What do you mean?" he frowned.

"Astrid," Hiccup clarified, clearing his throat, but still not looking at Stoick. "Did she… Did she know she was… _pregnant_ … You know, when…" He paused for a moment. "When I left."

"No, Hiccup, no, she didn't," Stoick gasped, feeling terrible for not stressing that immediately. "She had no idea. She found out a few weeks later."

Hiccup's eyes flickered up towards his, relief evident within them even through the slits of Hiccup's helmet. Stoick didn't dare to ask him to remove it.

"She suspects it happened the night of Snotlout and Ruffnut's wedding," he further clarified, awkwardly averting his gaze when Hiccup cringed at the implication. "And she wanted you to know. After she received your letter, she went out to sea to look for you…"

" _In winter?"_

"In winter," he nodded. "But she wasn't able to find a path through Helheim's Gate."

"Only a dragon can," Hiccup stated matter-of-factly.

"But those were gone, so this was the only option. And she tried until she no longer could."

Stoick had had to convince her to stop looking. To think of her health, and the baby's, first. But he wasn't putting that on Hiccup. It wasn't his place to share, nor to add insult to injury.

"I should have left her a way to contact me," Hiccup murmured. "If I hadn't closed myself off, then…"

"Then what, Hiccup? You didn't know. And if you hadn't needed to stay away, then you wouldn't have," he reminded Hiccup. Stoick and Astrid had told each other that many times. Hoping it would make Hiccup's absence hurt less.

Hiccup fisted his hands in his lap. "I don't know… But then the baby… Then _Hamish_ would have had both of his parents."

Neither of them needed to clarify that they knew what it was like for a child to only have one.

"But he knows you exist," he tried to retort. "He knows he has a father."

"I'm aware," Hiccup snorted. "That's how I found out. Tuffnut and he were talking to 'me' in the cove. For whatever reason."

He cursed internally. He'd given Tuffnut a warning that Hiccup was around, but of course he hadn't heeded it. Then again, if Hamish set his mind to something, he could be persistent… And to the Thorston's credit, he always wanted what was best for the boy.

"Astrid told him about you," he shared, figuring Astrid wouldn't mind if he put Hiccup at least a little at ease. "And about Toothless, how the two of you met in that cove. That it was a place you loved, and over time, it became a place Hamish associates with you. And where he likes to talk to you."

"But _why?_ " Hiccup asked, pulling up his legs and resting his head on his knees. "Why would he want to talk to me? Until today I didn't even know he _existed_."

"He doesn't know that. Before he could even start to ask questions, Astrid told him his father was far away, fighting the Red Death, picturing her as the villain from one of his bedtime stories. And that you were doing that to keep the both of them safe, along with Berk and all the good dragons." He smiled gently. "I don't think I'm exaggerating if I say you're Hamish's hero."

"So Astrid lied to him," Hiccup instantly concluded.

"Not entirely," he tried.

"I'm not a hero," Hiccup interrupted him, startling his dragon as he got up. "I am someone who abandoned him because the only way for me to somewhat deal with my issues was to completely exile myself so I didn't have to see anyone for five years!" He balled his hands into fists, pushing them against the slits of his helmet. "Sure, Berk didn't get raided, and the dragons are free, and while it was the goal, it wasn't…"

Hiccup lowered his quivering hands to his sides, looking into the fire. "If I had been alright enough to do what Astrid proposed, to work with you instead of handling it all by myself… The Queen could have been dead years ago. And I would have been here. Like a father's supposed to be."

Stoick swallowed, his voice thick. "You were only away for five years. You had to struggle without me for eleven."

"That's different," Hiccup sharply interjected. "I made a choice. Hamish never had one."

"Perhaps if I'd…" he started, voicing the thought that had been haunting him ever since he'd found out how Hiccup had come to resent him.

Hiccup put up his hand, shaking his head. "No, dad, not now, I…" Stoick could hardly hear his next whisper. "I can't."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

They sighed in unison, looking at each other but immediately averting their gazes again. Hiccup paced the room for a moment, and only now did Stoick properly realise just how _tall_ he'd become, his shoulders and chest broadened, his posture that of a man. Still skinnier than the average Viking, but strong nevertheless. And it seemed like only two days ago that he was a little boy, darting through the house in search of his favourite toy. Then again, he had had Hamish over the day before Hiccup had come back… And his grandson was already so much like the father he'd never met.

"I'd love to tell you more about him." Because he loved Hamish with all his heart, and was amazed by him every single day. "But with Astrid still gone, I don't know, I don't want to overstep my boundaries."

"I get that, she's… She's his _mother_ after all," Hiccup muttered, as if he still didn't quite believe it. He stopped pacing and rubbed his hands together. "Where is he now? If he's not with her. At Tuffnut's?"

"He's staying with her parents. I babysit him occasionally during the day, and so does Tuffnut. He looks after many of the Berkian kids, but the Hoffersons are who he's with most." And they had made very sure that Hamish didn't see the Red Death's decapitated head the day before. That would've raised a lot of questions none of them knew how to deal with.

"So I missed him when I tried to see if Astrid was there," Hiccup wryly commented. "Typical." He hesitated for a moment, his gaze locked on the fire, his voice determined when he spoke up again. "I want to see him."

 _Oh, no_. "Hiccup -"

"I know, I shouldn't, but I just… I need to make sense out of all of this. And maybe just being with him, it might…" Hiccup furrowed his brows. "I can't sit around and wait."

Hiccup moved towards the stairs, his dragon following after him. Stoick hurried out of his chair. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get Stormfly," Hiccup shared. "She can track Astrid down. Then at least she knows I'm back, and can decide for herself when she wants to see me." He stopped abruptly, the Night Fury bumping into him and shaking his head, dazed. "Do you have anything that belongs to her?" He gestured around the room. "That has her smell on it."

"I don't, but…" Stoick paused for a moment, then figured it was better to work with than against a Hiccup who'd set his mind to something. He didn't want to fight him. "You could check her home." Hiccup's eyes widened slightly. "Old Mrs. Alfsson passed away two years ago. She moved in there." He didn't have to clarify where that was. Both Hiccup and the Phantom had always known everything, and everyone. Like a proper Chief's son.

"Gotcha," Hiccup nodded, climbing up the stairs and leaving Stoick at the bottom of it. Disappearing into the darkness of his old loft.

The wooden floors didn't creak, nor did the window when the Night Fury climbed out of it. His son and the dragon were simply gone, just like that. Ghosts.

But unlike the previous phantom, he thoroughly welcomed these two into his life. Regardless of the long road still ahead of them.

* * *

Hiccup left Toothless outside as he crawled through the bedroom window of the house that, to him, still belonged to Mrs. Alfsson, one of the many - _many_ \- Viking widows who had doted on him back in the day. Or well, on his fishbone posture, mostly, worried that their future Chief wasn't eating enough. That he'd never grow up to look like his father. That he couldn't protect them from their enemies, and of course, the dragons that had taken their husbands in the first place.

He wondered what she and her friends had thought of the news that he was, in fact, their Phantom. And that dealing with dragons wasn't his problem in the slightest.

They had probably rightfully concluded that he had a lot of other problems instead.

He lit Inferno as soon as his feet landed on the wooden flooring, ensuring he wouldn't bump into anything. The bedroom he laid eyes on couldn't be described as anything other than ordinary. It wasn't as big as his father's, but nevertheless fit a large bed, suited for a Viking family. It looked cosy enough, with two pillows and a set of blankets perfect for summer. He didn't spot anything personal on it - no toys, no stuffed animals - which he figured made sense, given that the two people who normally slept in it weren't home.

Stormfly had a great nose, so the smell of the blankets or the pillows themselves would undoubtedly be enough. Alternatively, he could look into one of the chests or drawers for a piece of clothing that had to be Astrid's. He could make it that easy for himself.

But instead, his gaze wandered to the door that led to the living room.

He took a deep breath, put his hand on the door handle and carefully entered, as if there was anyone he could startle. The room had a similar lay-out to his father's home, just smaller; there was a hearth in the middle, a kettle hanging above it. A wooden table was placed against the long wall, with a bench and two chairs, a fur rug bridging the gap between it and the fireplace. In the far corner was a set of stairs, leading up to the loft above. He spotted several toys haphazardly spread throughout the room; sets of richly coloured blocks, a rocking horse, which, on closer examination, was stylised to look like a dragon, and a small wooden sword.

It looked like an ordinary family home. Simple. He saw no weapons that made it look distinctly Astrid's, although any mother would keep those far away from her child. But based on what he saw, the man of the house could have simply been a fisherman, out for several days, already looking forward to returning home and sitting at the fireplace with his wife and son. Telling them how his journey had been, making something up to entertain the boy even if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Until the exhaustion would eventually set in and the three of them would crawl into bed together. Knowing that they'd see each other again the following morning.

He wasn't that man. He couldn't place what he saw in front of him. He registered what all of it was, but he didn't know what it _meant_. He didn't know which toy was Hamish's favourite, what chair Astrid usually sat in to watch him as he played. Whether they ate at home most of the time, or shared a meal with the others in the Great Hall. What their days looked like, and their lives as a whole. He wondered if he'd even been able to identify this house as Astrid's if his father hadn't told him so.

He didn't know anything. Except that he didn't belong here.

"I'm just the father of a boy I didn't know existed."

His eyes fell on a piece of fabric hanging over the back of one of the chairs, the one closest to the fire. A large, green wool sweater. Even in the light of Inferno's dancing shadows, he recognised the colour to be the same as that of the tunic he'd loved to wear when he was fifteen. Which the Wingmaidens had torn off him to treat his burns, because he'd been too frantic to be properly undressed.

Or so he'd been told. He didn't actually remember. But he hadn't minded the lack of colour in the grayish tunic they'd sown him later.

He walked over to the chair and picked up the sweater, wondering whose it was. He crumpled it in his gloves and moved it up to his nose. It smelled of simmering fire, of smoked fish, along with something more… flowery. He hated to admit that he didn't know if the scent was Astrid's. It had been too long. He hadn't savoured it enough when he'd still had her.

But he couldn't imagine that it belonged to anyone else. Because it was clearly not Hamish's. It wouldn't fit, it was either for a woman to comfortably snuggle up in around the house, or a man's. And he couldn't stomach the latter.

Because if it were any man's, it was supposed to be his.

He let himself drop into the chair, the realisation suddenly hitting him that this could have been his life. That it _should_ have been.

" _Don't worry Astrid, I'll properly pull out_ ," he spat, mimicking an even more pathetic version of his own voice. " _And even if you do get pregnant, I wouldn't leave you_."

He let his head fall back. "I'm such a fucking fraud."

They had both been aware there were risks to the way they'd had sex. It had crossed his mind often enough when he was alone. But when he held her in his arms, when he kissed her… Astrid was his world. And he'd just wanted all of her. The disgusting tea she'd drank against pregnancy had seemed to be doing its job, after all.

"Ruffnut and Snotlout's wedding." That's when his father had said she'd likely fallen pregnant. "Of course."

The night he'd blown up at her. The night he'd revealed enough wickedness to make Astrid not want to come back home with him. So she hadn't taken the herbs that morning.

"It's my fault," he realised. "All of it. _I did this_."

He doused Inferno, leaving him in the darkness and free to lift his visor. "She got pregnant because _I_ fucked up. Because _I_ ruined everything…"

"She never wanted this." He buried his face in Astrid's sweater, a single sob leaving him. "She wanted to fight, she wanted to travel the world, she…" All the times he'd asked, Astrid had never talked about settling down. If it had come up at all, it had always been him. He distinctly remembered all the times she'd said a domestic life wouldn't fit her, that it seemed so boring, so uneventful. That she wasn't ready to take care of someone so dependent on her.

"But I left her no choice," he cried, his tears flowing freely now. "I did this to her. It wasn't enough to betray her, to break her heart…" He'd threatened to kill her. But while he hadn't done that, he'd ended the life she'd wanted anyhow.

"She has to hate me. There's no other option. I _made_ her do this. And then abandoned her."

He hadn't known. But that was no excuse. Because if it hadn't been for him, then it wouldn't have happened to begin with.

She'd gone through nine months of pregnancy without him by her side. She'd given birth on her own. Her son, _their son_ , Hamish Hofferson, had been born a bastard because Hiccup hadn't been there to accept him into his family. Astrid had been alone through all the sleepless nights. On her own when she'd moved into this house. By herself when Hamish had taken his first steps, said his first words, asked his first question.

He hadn't just abandoned the woman he loved more than anyone else in this world. He'd missed all the first milestones in his son's life.

 _His son_.

Suddenly, that thought, which had until now just been a truth he somehow had to accept, became awfully tangible. He could see that boy from the cove here, in front of him, running around the fireplace, playing, laughing as he bumped into his mother, who picked him up and pressed a kiss to his auburn mop of hair. Two people he loved dearly, smiling at each other until they finally turned to him, watching from the chair he was currently sitting in. He would take Hamish from Astrid, _his Astrid_ , and would hug Hamish as he wrapped his tiny, dangly arms around his father's neck. Calling him 'Daddy' the same way he had in the cove. But now actually directed at Hiccup himself, instead of at the idea Astrid had sketched of him.

His chest ached with a longing he couldn't quite place, a sense of loneliness he had never felt before.

He was a father. It was that simple. He couldn't change it, even if he held all the power in the world. It no longer mattered that he wasn't fit to be one, that he was possibly the worst role model a young boy could wish for. That he had no idea how to be a dad.

He was bound to this for the rest of his life. Or Hamish's, at least. And there was no way in Hel he would outlive his son. He wouldn't allow that to happen. He'd find a way to move both the highest mountains and the deepest oceans before that could come to pass.

Because he was nevertheless, regardless of the sheer shittiness and thorough fucked-upness of the situation, struck by the idea that perhaps, somewhere, deep down, he wanted to be a father. He wanted to _try._ He had to. Even if Astrid didn't want him as her husband, even if she rightfully hated him for the rest of her life. Hamish existed because of what he had done. The first four - _four,_ already - years of his life had been the way they had been because of him. And it was his duty to fix it. Whatever 'it' might be.

He just wanted to meet that boy. With his bright smile, his vivid eyes, and the inexplicable, obvious obsession with dragons his parents shared. His heart yearned for him, for as little as he would likely get. Even if it was only one moment.

But he didn't have the right to barge into the life they'd built without him. He was a trespasser, clueless, without guidance. And only Astrid could show him the way. Like she always had.

He failed to dry his tears but got up regardless, dodging Hamish's belongings on the floor, trying not to let his mind stray to the toys _he_ could make for him as he returned to the bedroom window, Astrid's sweater held tightly to his chest.

For now, he had to find Stormfly. Send the tracking dragon out to sea. So that maybe, hopefully, Astrid would find her way back to him.

Until then, he could only hope she didn't despise him as much as he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Astrid Hofferson will return next chapter.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at aleteia-ff! I intend to do Six Sentence Sunday there every Sunday, which will give you all a bit of a preview of what's yet to come!
> 
> If you want to discuss the fic with me and other people, you are also welcome to join us on the A Thing Of Vikings Discord Server, in the channel aleteias-fics! The link is discordapp dot com slash invite slash xVuZfK2
> 
> The story will be updated on Saturday two weeks from now, around 6 PM Central European (Summer) Time!


	6. Two Girls, One Ship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone and thank you so much for being here, still :) I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! We're finally getting back to Astrid :D
> 
> (And excuse me for the ridiculously bad chapter title, I thought it was funny :D )

**Chapter 6: Two Girls, One Ship**

Astrid could only imagine a few moments that could possibly beat this one. The wind in her face, the saltiness of the ocean filling her nostrils. The breeze in her hair, which she'd decided to wear down for a change, only a single partial braid keeping most of it together…

It was a sensation that had become frustratingly foreign to her, in spite of her best efforts. Sometimes, standing on one of Berk's cliffs when the wind picked up, she could get a sense, a snippet of the feeling she longed for so deeply.

Still, neither those hours on Berk, nor this particular one at sea, could beat actually being on Stormfly's back and soaring through the air. But she'd had to go without that for almost five years by now. Long enough to make her wonder if she still even remembered it correctly to begin with, or if her memories had become embellished with nostalgia. Just like those of Hiccup.

But if she simply closed her eyes, and pretended hard enough… She could at least get somewhat closer to healing that scar she still felt every day, regardless of how deep she'd buried it.

"You should come out with me more often. I can't remember seeing you smile _this_ brightly."

She laughed, turning to face her friend, some of her blond hair blowing into her face. Heather was leaning against the mast of the ship, her long black braid framing a grin that said 'I told you so'.

"I smile enough!" Astrid countered.

"You do, but not like _that_."

"Heather…"

"You grin at Hamish, you give the whole island a polite twist of your lips, but actually beaming? Nope, never seen Astrid Hofferson go there," Heather teased. "It looks good on you."

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "The wind just brings back memories, I guess."

"Well, it has been picking up a bit over the past few days, so you're in luck," Heather hummed, pulling on one of the ropes to adjust the sail.

She frowned, walking over to her friend and helping her tug. "Do you think there's a storm coming in?"

"Nah." Heather shook her head. "And even if it does, there's not much we can do about it."

"It would slow us down though."

Heather pulled up an amused eyebrow. "I'm not in a hurry."

"I just -"

"And you shouldn't be either."

She socked Heather's arm, making the rope almost slip from her fingers. Heather tied it up, laughing. "I'm just saying, I thought that was the whole reason you went with me, to get some time away from Berk."

"Well, yes, of course, I _had_ to, but I just…" She leaned back against the mast. "I just hope Hamish is okay."

"He will be. Your parents are great with him," Heather argued, grabbing a loaf of bread from one of the many, many baskets on board and passing it to her.

She gave Heather something Tuffnut pointedly called her 'mom look'. "You'll get it when you have kids yourself."

"Oh, yeah," Heather snorted. "As if that's happening anytime soon."

"Hamish likes you enough, I'm sure you could do it."

"Fishlegs is too busy mapping out every implausible dragon trail on the island. And I like my freedom, thank you."

"Are you sure?" she teased, grinning. "No chubby blond Ingerman babies?"

"Nope," Heather retorted, making the _p_ pop. "Absolutely not ready for that."

She laughed wryly. "Neither was I."

Heather gave her a look, leaving Astrid unsure if it was pity or silent admiration. She didn't need either, so she shrugged, taking a bite off her bread. "Life tends to just turn out that way."

"Hamish probably misses you too," Heather tried.

"He shouldn't. That's why I'm here, right?" She shook her head and sat down on one of the chests on deck. "So he starts to learn he can depend on other people too. So that he won't be completely lost if something happens to me."

Heather sighed, taking the spot next to her. "Nothing is going to happen to you. You're too stubborn to die."

"If stubbornness was the way to immortality, then all Vikings would live forever," she joked. "So I don't think that's something I can rely on."

"Yeah, but you're Astrid," Heather told her, her tone reminding her just too much of Hiccup. The way he'd shrug his shoulders, grinning at her as if that was the answer to every single doubt she could ever raise. "If anyone's going to be the first, it's you."

"We'll see about that."

"And besides…" Heather nudged her shoulder, a sneaky grin spreading on her lips that Astrid knew all too well. "If the lack of another parent in Hamish's life is what you're worried about, we met plenty of men last week who would have married you on the spot, if you'd let them. Even if there's a kid involved."

"Oh, yeah, and such desirable fellows they were," she nodded, playing along. "I'm not sure which one I liked better, the one who smelled like a winter's worth of rotting fish, or the one who approached me asking if I'd like to see his _Zippleback Head._ "

"I know, tough choice, _definitely_ ," Heather hummed, smirking. "Do you think he was leaking green too?"

"Oh my Gods, that's disgusting!" She socked Heather's elbow. "I don't even want to think about that, and now" - yup, she saw it in her mind's eye, unfortunately - " _Ew!_ "

"Hey, you started it," Heather laughed, flashing the silver band around her finger. "Should have brought one of these."

She grabbed her axe from her back, catching the sun's reflection in the blade. "I think I got it covered."

"That lumberjack you talked with certainly looked like he could handle your axe," Heather winked. "And you didn't seem to mind him either."

"Well, yeah, he was nice," she shrugged, catching a loose strand of hair between her fingers. Tall, with a beard that actually suited him, and he knew how to crack a joke or two. They'd been comfortable, two sizable pints of mead easily having gone down as they'd spoken. But comfortable was all it had been.

"But he's not Hiccup," Heather sighed, because it wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation.

"No one is."

"Mhmm, can't say I've ever met another pro-dragon terrorist who pretended to rape and then abandoned his almost-wife. Without bothering to check if she needed, you know, _help_ , with anything."

"You never met him."

"I danced with him."

"Not the same." She rolled her eyes. "And not the point."

Heather cocked her head at her. "Not mine either."

She sighed, got up and stretched so she could avert her gaze. Heather wasn't being mean to her, they weren't fighting. Heather, as one of the most neutral people on Berk in the gigantic mess surrounding Hiccup, had simply taken on the task of reminding her of what she should never forget.

"It's just hard to imagine," she murmured, leaning against the mast and looking at the sea. At the horizon that was several hundreds of feet higher up than it should have been, from a dragon's back. "Whenever I think about those things, especially with Hamish in the picture too - and there's no scenario in which he isn't - it's just…"

"It's always Hiccup," Heather completed.

She turned around, finding her friend's empathetic smile, and nodded. "Since the day I met him."

"That's what worries me."

She bit her lower lip. "Me too. But I've told you my plan before. He has a mess to clean up, and I'm not doing it for him."

"Which he can only do if he's still alive."

"I know he is." It was one thing she was absolutely sure of. "Stormfly would have come back if he weren't."

"I just hope it'll be sooner rather than later," Heather commented, leaning back and pulling up her legs.

That was news to her. "I thought you weren't a fan of him?"

"I'm not," Heather confirmed, and Astrid couldn't blame her. "But like you said, it's his mess. After all he's put you through already, I'd hate for it to become Hamish's. The little squirt can't help what his father did."

She smiled wryly. "I don't think Spitelout's going to let it drag out that long. Especially with the new baby on the way."

Heather took another bite off her bread. "Become your mess, then."

"It already is."

Heather grinned, her mouth half full. "Because you're too Gods damned stubborn and selfless."

"Hoffersons," she smirked. "That's basically a given."

"Just don't lose yourself, Az," Heather told her, more serious.

"I'll try."

She let a silence settle between them, and turned her eyes back towards the ocean instead of bothering to correct her lie. She didn't have to, because Heather had likely already figured it out. She couldn't get lost, because she'd been lost for the past six years. She'd been lost since the moment the Phantom - _Hiccup_ \- had first spoken to her. Since he'd shown her his dragons. Since she'd first met Stormfly. And she'd been gone for good when she'd kissed him in the darkness of the arena.

It wasn't as if she hadn't tried. She'd expected her memories of him to fade with time, like all the others, but they had stayed put as stubbornly as Hiccup was himself. She still recalled his gap-toothed, lopsided smiles, his boundless enthusiasm, the way he truly, deeply cared about every single thing he did. His conviction, his passion, his ability to get up again after the millionth time the world had beaten him down. His gorgeous green eyes, the mop of auburn hair she loved to bury her hands in… She could remember them all, clear as day.

Then again, it didn't help that she saw those same things in her son every day. And that the older Hamish got, the more he embodied his father. Even though the two of them had never met.

She often wondered how that was possible. Because she herself wasn't like Hiccup. And Stoick wasn't either. It also couldn't have come from Valka, because both Hiccup and Hamish had never met her. Hiccup simply hadn't been like anyone he'd known. But she knew all too well that the people surrounding him had all had a part to play in who he'd become.

On lazy afternoons, Hamish finally having run out of energy, Stoick and she had often wondered if there had been another possibility. A world in which fifteen year old Hiccup had come to talk to them instead of leaving Berk. In which they'd been susceptible enough to his arguments, in which they'd believed his opinion on dragons. Or had at least been aware of how he'd end up if they didn't.

Astrid didn't think that world existed. Or that she, at that point in time, would have been the one to accept Hiccup for who he really was.

Stoick didn't either.

They had to live with that knowledge. That perhaps, there were indeed scenarios in which Hiccup didn't descend into the Phantom's frame of mind. Because he never got the scars. Because the Wingmaidens made a better decision. Because he didn't end up in Constantinople, or didn't meet Alexander.

But it was never because of them. They were never the father, or friend, Hiccup had so sorely needed.

They tried to tell each other that it didn't matter. That it was in the past. But it did. Because they had both lost someone terribly important, thanks to their own shortcomings and mistakes.

Hiccup had made the choices he'd made, and those weren't excusable. She reminded herself of that every day. Making sure she didn't just secure the good times in her mind, but the bad too. Whenever he'd scowled at her. Yelled. His eyes growing colder, glazing over with that wicked and determined stare that she had long assigned to the Phantom, but which she had to remember was Hiccup's too. That it was Hiccup who had threatened to kill her, and who'd abandoned her. To retain his own sanity. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

It didn't make it easier to ignore the stinging guilt. The knowledge that Berk had been the catalyst, had helped create the person Hiccup had become. Especially when Hamish reminded her of that every day.

She wouldn't make the same mistakes Stoick had. And neither would the Chief of Berk himself. If anything, he was the biggest supporter of anything Hiccup-like Hamish did. She didn't know if that was the right way to go either, but she supposed it was better than the alternative. And she didn't have to ask Hamish who his favourite grandpa was.

Not all of Berk considered that to be a positive thing. But she had that under control, for now. And they knew better than to instigate anything while she was away.

She just wondered if she was making the right choice. If it wasn't better to settle for someone like the lumberjack. A marriage that, while perhaps loveless, was safe and secure. Keeping Hamish far away from everything that had scarred his father. But she also knew that it could never be that simple. That ship had sailed long ago.

All she could do now is close her eyes and listen to the sound of the sea, enjoy the wind and the journey she'd gone on. It was the only thing on her agenda for today. They'd finished sorting through all Heather's wares the day before, so there was no work left to be done. They simply had to wait until they reached Berk. But patience wasn't really her strength. It never had been. It made her feel useless, as if she didn't have a say in the situation.

It was what made waiting for Hiccup to show up again so Gods damned hard. Especially since they hadn't received a sign of life from him in over two years.

She just had to believe he was still alive. That if something happened to her, Hamish wouldn't be an orphan, that any separation from his parents, like the one she'd created right now, would be temporary. One that had been necessary, no matter how much she missed him. And at least she'd only left for a few weeks. Instead of five years.

"If only he knew," she muttered underneath the sound of the wind.

But he didn't. And all three of them would have to learn to live with that.

She sat down and leaned back against the side of the boat, letting the sun warm up her features, savouring the few months of the year she didn't have to wear her fur gloves. She'd replaced them with her favourite cloth wrappings instead. She made a mental note to get Hamish some and shorten the sleeves of one of his tunics; she didn't want him to get his arms scratched - and she knew he would if she didn't take any precautions - but was also getting tired of repairing the tears in his clothes at least once a week.

She smiled to herself. She'd become such a _mom_.

She dozed off, letting the gentle up and down movement of the waves carry her worries away, if only for a moment. She could use the extra hours of sleep, she supposed. A moment alone wasn't all that bad. A moment to dream, to remember, to _hope_ …

"Az?"

She kept her eyes closed, humming softly. "Hmm?"

"You were good with dragons, right?"

"I used to be." She frowned, blinking open her eyes. "Why?"

She looked at Heather, who was staring at the blue sky above them, and simply pointed. Astrid let her eyes follow the invisible line from the tip of Heather's finger, ending up at a dark spot in the skies. The silhouette of a dragon.

"It's probably just migrating, and got off-course," she shrugged, because she'd learned not to get her hopes up. It'd been ages since the last report of a trader being harassed by dragons, let alone a village. She'd long given up the hope of getting close to a wild one, given that they were hardly seen anymore these days. As if they'd finally decided it wasn't worth the effort. Or were being kept close by _something_. Like the Red Death.

"I'm fairly sure it isn't," Heather insisted.

"Why?"

"Because it's getting closer."

That got her attention. She turned her eyes towards the sky again, squinting at the winged figure. It wasn't any trouble for her to recognise its shape, the way it beat its wings, as that of a Deadly Nadder. It was a fast one too, rapidly descending towards the ocean's surface.

Its wings caught the sun for only a moment, making the dragon light up with beautiful shades of blue and gold. The colours she'd remember for as long as she'd live.

_It couldn't be_.

She climbed to her feet, gaining some height, and squinted harder, begging her eyes to allow her to _see_ , just this once. And the moment she caught a glimpse of the dragon's yellow eyes, she knew.

"Move!"

Heather's head whipped back to look at her, her green eyes widened in surprise. Astrid gestured to the fully stacked deck, picked up one of the baskets and shoved it to the side. "Make some space!"

Heather didn't argue, but just moved, helping her create something that was supposed to be a clearing at the front of the ship. They were only just quick enough, finishing just before the dragon reached their boat. And then Astrid was left to stand there, gaping, dropping the basket she was still holding when the Nadder landed. The rear side of the ship bounded up in response to her weight, food spilling across the deck.

The dragon's claws were bigger than she remembered, the tips of her nails etching into the wood. Her wings were wider, her body slightly larger, stronger. But the determined yet loving look in her eyes, and the happy way in which she gawked, cocking her head and leaning down towards Astrid with interest, hadn't changed at all.

"Stormfly!"

She leapt at the Nadder, throwing her arms around her skull and pulling her close, her heart surging with joy. Stormfly's scales scratched Astrid's cheek, but she didn't care. It felt just like it had five years ago.

"I missed you," she breathed, her voice cracking. "I missed you so much."

Stormfly let out a low sound through her nostrils, her hot breath tickling Astrid's neck and making her giggle, fully overwhelmed by the fact that Stormfly was here. She was _alive_.

Which meant that…

She leaned back, rubbing her hand over Stormfly's nose-horn and looking her in the eye. "Hiccup's alive, right? You're here because he survived, because he did it, because he's…"

Stormfly chirped and happily pounded her claws on the deck.

" _He's coming back_."

She hugged Stormfly again, tears rolling down her cheeks because she couldn't believe it. She'd spent five years hoping, wishing, dreaming this day would come. And it finally had.

Hiccup hadn't abandoned her. He hadn't forgotten. Her worst nightmare, the one that had haunted her in a way even the Phantom himself never had been able to, hadn't come true.

"Where is he?" she asked between one sob and the next. Stormfly flapped her wings and gestured with her beak towards her back. Where her saddle was securely attached, just like it had been when Astrid had said goodbye to her in the cove. Unaware that it would turn into a farewell instead.

"You want me to fly with you?" she deciphered, Stormfly's eyes lighting up at the word 'fly'. "He's waiting somewhere, isn't he? He's…"

Hiccup was giving her a choice. He wasn't forcing her to see him. It was all up to her. And he didn't have any control over her decision.

That realisation almost made her just as happy as merely knowing that Hiccup was alive.

And she didn't want to wait another moment to see him. She wanted to see how he was doing. To tell him about Hamish, when the time was right, put her plan into motion and make clear what her expectations for him were. To move on, finally, because for the first time in five years, she was starting to get the feeling that she _could_.

She moved to Stormfly's side and was halfway through putting her foot in her old saddle's stirrup when she finally looked behind her. And spotted Heather, who she'd almost completely forgotten about, watching her with wide eyes from the other side of the ship.

"Sorry," she smiled, wiping the wetness off her face. "This must look pretty weird."

"Only slightly," Heather commented, very clearly freaked out.

"This is Stormfly," she explained, running her hand over the Nadder's horn and scales. "She was my dragon, back when I was with Hiccup. And my best friend." Stormfly nudged her cheek as Astrid scratched her in just the right spot, making Astrid giggle. "She still is."

"I know, you told me about her," Heather nodded, still not moving from her hideout on top of one of the chests. "But Gods, it's _weird_ , seeing a dragon just standing there instead of pillaging half my ship."

"It took me some time to get used to the idea too." Then again, the idea of friendly dragons had been communicated to her by an invisible terrorist. Who she'd ended up falling in love with.

She softly patted Stormfly's snout, keeping her in place as the dragon watched Heather with interest. "Do you want to touch her?"

Heather blinked at her in shock. "What?"

"You know, say hello," she shrugged. "It's how you show a dragon you trust them."

"Yeah, Az, I'm not so sure about that…" Heather objected, her eyes nervously flicking between Astrid and Stormfly.

Astrid decided she wasn't letting Heather get out of it that easily. She'd promised herself that no matter what Hiccup might do, she'd always fight for a world in which dragons were safe among Vikings. And while she hadn't been able to share much beyond stories over the past years, this was the first step towards doing _more_.

"Come on," she teased, letting Stormfly go and slowly walking up to Heather, her hand stretched out to her. "I know you want to."

"I really don't, actually -" Heather tried, but Astrid grabbed her wrist, slowly dragging her along.

"If there's anyone badass enough to touch a dragon, it's you," she insisted, encouraged by how Heather didn't struggle. "It's just years of false Viking stories you need to forget about. Easy enough."

"Right…"

Heather gulped when they reached Stormfly. The Nadder curiously leaned in, her yellow eyes examining Heather with interest.

"She's just curious," Astrid clarified, holding Heather's shoulders and preventing her from jumping back when Stormfly candidly nipped at her braid. "She thinks you're pretty. She has a good eye for that."

"Or she wants to eat me."

"If you smell her breath you can instantly tell she much prefers fish," she chuckled, grabbing Heather's hand and moving it towards Stormfly. "Just hold out your palm like that."

"And then what?"

"You look at her. Or away, if you feel that's easier." She smiled when Heather didn't take that suggestion, her eyes softening instead as she and Stormfly _really_ looked at each other. "And wait for her to bridge the gap."

Stormfly glanced at her, and Astrid gave her an encouraging nod. Then, without further hesitation, Stormfly leaned forward and pushed her snout against Heather's palm.

Heather's eyes widened, wonder painted all over her features. She and Stormfly simply stood there for a moment, gazing at each other and internalising their new connection.

Astrid herself couldn't help but grin. She hoped the joy Hiccup had felt the first time he'd seen her connect with Stormfly had been just as overwhelming. And she could only imagine what this would be like with Hamish. Although she wasn't allowed to dwell on that. Not yet, at least.

"Okay, I admit it," Heather sighed, slowly moving her hand over Stormfly's snout. "This is pretty cool."

"I know, right?" she beamed, throwing her arm over Stormfly's neck and hugging her again. She couldn't get enough of it. The feeling of her best friend, alive, here, again. It felt too surreal.

"So that means Hiccup's back, I hope?"

"I think so." She vaguely gestured at the air. "Somewhere, out there. Stormfly likely knows where he is."

"That's going to be quite a shocker," Heather murmured, still focused on exploring Stormfly's skin. "For everyone."

"Definitely."

"You should go find him."

"Are you sure?" she asked, looking around at the mess Stormfly's landing had made of the ship. "Don't you need help?"

Heather shook her head, smiling. "I'll be back on Berk in a day or two, at most. I think I can handle that. I normally do it by myself anyways."

"I'll help you unload when you get there," she promised.

"Don't worry about me," Heather reassured her. "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you."

They hugged each other, tighter than usual. "Just stay strong, okay?" Heather insisted, putting both of her hands firmly on Astrid's shoulders. "Don't let his opinion get the best of yours. Stick to your plan."

"I will," she nodded. As much as she simply wanted to rush towards Hiccup, she also had to be prepared. It wasn't just about herself anymore, after all.

She mounted Stormfly in one swift movement, as if they'd never been separated. She supposed it was simply something you never forgot how to do. Like walking, or swinging an axe. And that intense feeling of longing, that craving she'd had since the day she'd last flown, was finally replaced by the familiar feeling of Stormfly's body beneath hers, the steady up and down movement of her chest. Her strength. Her vigilance. Everything that had made her fall in love with the dragon, and which she'd never forgotten.

"Have a safe trip home," she told Heather, who was staring up at her with a mixture of wonder and jealousy that made Astrid smile even wider.

"You too."

With those words, she nudged Stormfly with both of her heels. And took off into the skies.

She yelped, her stomach reeling and her knuckles whitening around the saddle as they shot straight upwards, past the ship's mast and further up. She dug her heels into Stormfly's sides and the Nadder levelled out almost instantly, leaving Astrid gasping for air.

"Okay, that might have been a bit too enthusiastic," she concluded as she repositioned herself, her grin returning. "We both haven't done this for a while, now have we?" She patted Stormfly's neck. "You could probably pull off a lot more stunts when you didn't have to take care of me too, right, girl?"

They soared calmly for a while, Astrid letting Stormfly navigate. The observation that they were headed for Berk - not Phantom Island - made her stomach flutter. More so than the flying itself did. That just made her smile, close her eyes and enjoy the wind in her face. The overwhelming sense of freedom, of endless possibility. Of that inexplicable bond between Viking and dragon. Of everything she had had to miss for nearly five long years.

Being on a ship couldn't even compare. But somehow, it still wasn't enough.

"I wonder if I still got it," she mumbled, tentatively clenching her thighs around her saddle. She hadn't exactly kept up with that kind of training.

"Guess there's only one way to find out, right, Stormfly?" She leaned forward, so she could only just barely see above Stormfly's crown of spines. She could ease into this. Practice for a while before she went full out. Measure it out the way Hiccup did, every move on Toothless calculated and thoroughly practised.

But that had never been her style. And she knew, still, that Stormfly would always catch her if she fell.

So she sent Stormfly straight down to the water surface, waited until their drop was _just_ perfect, and pulled the both of them back up into one amazing, awe-inspiring, tear-evoking loop that left her screaming in delight.

" _Fuck yes!_ "

It was the first, undeniable fact about dragon riding that Hiccup had wordlessly taught her all those years ago. Once you got a taste, you could never get enough. And right now, she couldn't imagine ever getting back down to solid ground.

She hugged Stormfly's neck, levelling out for only a moment. "I don't know how I spent so long without you." She sniffed, wiping the tears away from her face. "Please don't ever leave me again."

The reassuring gawk Stormfly gave her in return was all Astrid needed for her soul to take flight again. Making her feel whole. Even if it was only for a moment.

They continued to spin and twirl, zigzagging through any set of sea stacks they could find as if they had never been apart. As if they'd never had to miss each other. As if it simply came natural to them. Because it did. It was something utterly magical, making the sun move quicker through the sky, the summer breeze almost unnoticeable, every distance suddenly crossable.

She forgot the time, and herself and her multitude of worries along with it.

Until eventually, the unmistakable shape of the island of Berk came into sight. And the realisation hit her that Hiccup had to be waiting for her, right there.

It only made her speed up. She had been preparing herself for this since the day he'd left. Since the day she'd found out she was pregnant. Since the day Hamish had been born, and all the days after. She knew what she had to say to him, she'd prepared herself for it, rehearsed it, and she had waited for years, hoping the day would come when she finally could. And she wasn't dragging it out any longer.

Stormfly led them to the far side of the island, their approach invisible to the village. And there, on one of the cliffs, she spotted two black figures she hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime. One of them hastily scrambled to its feet. But she didn't dare to look. Not really. Not until Stormfly had landed on the clifftop, and she had checked the ground, dismounting safely. Only then did she right herself, turning her gaze back up.

As Toothless' unmistakable croon reached her ears, she found herself looking straight at _Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III_.

He looked dumbfounded. His mouth slightly opened, revealing that the adorable gap between his teeth was still there. Yet he also seemed older, more weary, somehow even taller than she remembered. His shoulders looking broader because of the way the sun caught his black, slightly remodeled flight suit from behind. There were a few other lines on his face, accompanying those of his slightly lighter but still clearly distinguishable scars. The auburn mop he still hadn't learnt how to tame had somehow become even choppier than usual, as if he'd cut it himself with a knife. Her heart oddly fluttered when she realised that he probably had.

He was how she remembered him, yet different too. Because in this moment, she couldn't find a trace of the wrong part of her memories of him, of all those things she hadn't been able to allow herself to forget. She simply saw the light in his eyes, those beautiful green orbs that sucked her right back in, making her knees weak and her body mellow. Even though she really hadn't had to miss them for that long. After all, she'd had them with her nearly every day.

She had always known, to some extent. But only now did she truly, really see how much Hamish took after his father. He was a Haddock, through and through. And so was Hiccup himself.

She had made the right decision. She'd waited. And now it was up to her to continue down that path. To not mess up. To simply do the next right thing. For her and Hamish both.

And while her mind briefly considered punching him and giving him an earful about all he'd done to her, she found that all her body could do was simply smile. At the man she'd missed for an eternity. The sight of him leaving her breathless, without weakening her resolve.

"Hi."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at aleteia-ff! I intend to do Six Sentence Sunday there every Sunday, which will give you all a bit of a preview of what's yet to come!
> 
> If you want to discuss the fic with me and other people, you are also welcome to join us on the A Thing Of Vikings Discord Server, in the channel aleteias-fics! The link is discordapp dot com slash invite slash xVuZfK2
> 
> The story will be updated on Saturday two weeks from now, around 6 PM Central European (Summer) Time!


	7. Clifftop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone, we're finally here with the chapter you've all been waiting for: Hiccstrid, seeing each other again. I know it's been quite a while and probably longer than most of you expected, but I hope you understand why I structured the story in this way and placed some other events before this one.
> 
> I hope you are all still doing well even though the world is still crazy. I am personally still doing fine, thanks to those of you who ask in the comments :)
> 
> Enjoy!

**Chapter 7: Clifftop**

Hiccup couldn't believe his eyes.

She was here. Astrid Hofferson, the love of his life, in the flesh, standing in front of him and actually _smiling_. The dream he'd had, what he'd been fighting to see just one more time.

His memories and drawings had been the only relics he'd had of her. But she looked even more beautiful than he remembered, or could ever capture on paper.

If she had aged at all, it had only done her favours, the studs on her skirt glimmering as the sun lit up her features. As if it only had attention for her - like it should, because it shouldn't be wasted on anyone else. She was wearing her hair mostly down for a change, ruffled by the flight back to Berk yet somehow still beautiful, her bangs playfully framing her face where they hung over her kransen. It reminded him of all the lazy mornings they'd spent in bed together, her on his chest, allowing him to run his fingers through every single blond lock, because he loved them all. How she'd look up at him with her beautiful eyes, those clear blue pearls, as far-reaching as the sky and as deep as the sea, drowning him if he lingered for too long. But there was no better feeling than being left so breathless.

She was his Goddess, his Valkyrie, his end and his beginning, everything he'd fought his enemies for. Both the Red Death and himself. And while he had never doubted it, he was fully convinced of it now.

He was still absolutely, and completely, in love with her.

Astrid cocked her head at him, her smile widening as her pretty pink lips moved.

He only realised moments later that she'd said his name.

"Hiccup?"

He blinked, wondering how long he'd been gaping. "Yeah?"

"Hey," Astrid simply smiled.

"Hi - hey," he struggled, shaking his head because he still felt dazed and about to topple over. When that didn't work, his heart left him feeling like there was only one other option.

He stumbled towards her and gathered her in his arms, desperate to confirm that this was real, without any regard for whether she wanted him to. But after a short, surprised gasp and a moment of hesitation, Astrid wrapped her arms around his back too.

"I did it, Astrid," he murmured, burying his nose in the hair at the crown of her head, taking in her smell. She smelt like the sea, and like the sweater he'd collected last night. "She's dead. I killed her."

"I know," Astrid whispered, her voice breaking with a softness he knew she didn't often share. Not when he'd known her five years ago.

She could have changed, though, he had to remember that. But when he hugged her tighter, he found that she still fit, that it didn't feel strange to hold her, that she was still Astrid. Everything he'd missed, and everything he'd ever needed.

"Did you get even taller?" Astrid asked, laughing softly.

He couldn't look down at her as he answered, tears streaming down his cheeks because he was here, and so was she. He'd made it and somehow, she didn't seem to utterly detest him. "I may have," he managed, longing to wipe his cheeks but refusing to let her go. "Had to fix my armour a few times while I was away."

It seemed so silly, like something he didn't have to tell her, because she'd known him always, completely. Except for the parts he'd obsessively, compulsively concealed, measuring his every word so he didn't give her a hint as to what he was keeping from her. Afraid of what would happen if she found out. Knowing deep down that what he'd been doing had never been right to begin with. But stuck too deep in the canyons of his own mind to be able to back off.

It was only natural that to her, he'd changed. In more than one way. That had always been the intention, after all. That he came back a different man than the one he had been when he'd abandoned her.

_To raise their child on her own._

The overwhelming joy of seeing Astrid again had somehow made him momentarily forget the one thought that'd been rampaging around in his head ever since that moment in the cove.

That Astrid had perhaps changed even more than he had.

That she'd become a mother. And that she'd had to do it all alone.

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I'm so, so, sorry, I can't even begin to tell you just how much, and -"

"I know," she told him, nodding against his shoulder. "I got your letter. We don't need to talk about it beyond that, not now, it's -"

"But that's not the full extent of how badly I messed up, right?" He let out a pathetic laugh. "I knew I made a mess, but it was larger than I could have ever imagined, and Astrid, if I'd known, if I'd known you were -"

He paused when he felt her freeze, her body tensing as she put her hands on his shoulders and put some distance between them. "If you had known I was what?"

He dried his face with the backs of his hands and looked her in the eye, finding a guardedness there he knew all too well. But he didn't want her to think he'd betrayed her. Not again.

"Astrid, I know…" he softly shared. "About Hamish."

_Hamish_. Their son.

Astrid's eyes widened and she backed away further. He let his arms drop to his sides, unsure of what to do as a multitude of emotions crossed Astrid's face before she finally replied. "Who told you?"

"No one told me, I found out." He moved his hand through his hair, trying to put himself at ease. Astrid crossed her arms, biting down on her lower lip. "I was in the cove with Toothless," he continued. "And Tuffnut arrived along with this boy… Who had the wooden Night Fury with him that I carved for you. And who wanted to talk to his _father_."

"Did you talk to him?" Astrid asked, her tone flat, her expression undecipherable, his heart stinging because he could no longer read her.

"No." He shook his head. "I just put one and one together and had my dad confirm it."

Astrid's face opened up a little. "You talked to Stoick?"

Shoved a sword into his face demanding answers was more like it, but they didn't need to talk about that. Not now.

"Yeah. I couldn't find you on Berk, so I figured I should ask him before searching every corner of the Archipelago," he told her, gesturing to the vast space around them. "He advised me to wait for you to get back, and to stay out of the village. I listened, for the first time in my life, and I thought the cove was far enough from the village, but -"

"It's one of Hamish's favourite places on the island," Astrid completed, frowning. "And Stoick hadn't told you?"

"No." He shook his head, carefully measuring his next words. "When I confronted him with that, he told me that you wanted to tell me about Hamish yourself, and that he hadn't expected me to find out so quickly."

Astrid squinted. "You confronted him?"

He gulped internally, but kept his expression in check.

"How, exactly?" she pressed on.

He closed his eyes, balling his left fist.

_Don't lie_.

"I stuck Inferno in his face and demanded to know why he hadn't told me about Hamish." Astrid's frown immediately deepened, and he put up both of his hands in defence. "But I didn't actually do anything to him."

"The Phantom hardly ever actually did anything either," Astrid bit.

He swallowed uncomfortably. He knew she was right. "He explained to me that he'd made a promise to you, and that he'd only lied to keep it. I calmed down after that. I just didn't know how to deal with what I'd found out, and I was so _angry_ with myself, because I realised I'd abandoned you with a child -"

"So you took it out on your father," Astrid interrupted him, her voice stern. "I think I've heard this story before, Hiccup."

"But I calmed down," he tried to reassure her. "I couldn't do that five years ago! But this time around, I realised he didn't lie because he hated me, but because he's been taking care of you, and respected your wishes." He paused, lowering his voice. "That's all I want to do too."

"I'd love to believe that," Astrid told him, brushing her bangs out of her face. "But I can't be that naive. That's what got us here to begin with."

"Then let me show you," he pleaded, wishing nothing more than to make her feel at ease, which he'd clearly failed to do so far. "All the years I was away I've wanted nothing more than to come back to you, to see you again, and to redeem myself for the many, many mistakes I've made. And while I didn't know how to deal with Hamish at first, I've given it a lot of thought, because it means that I'm a _father_ , and Gods -" He shrugged, moving his hand through his hair. "I have no idea what that means, beyond that I don't want to repeat the mistakes my own dad made, but I want to find out. I just can't wait to meet him, and then I'll figure things out, and -"

"You can't."

He looked up at Astrid, ceasing his rambling. "What do you mean?"

"You can't meet Hamish. Not right now."

He wanted to repeat his question, because he still didn't understand her answer, but Astrid put up her hand. "I didn't want to get right to this, but it seems things never go quite as planned with us, and…" She sighed, briefly closing her eyes before looking at him with a strength and determination that was so thoroughly _Astrid_. "I need to be absolutely sure you are okay before you meet him. I want to believe you worked on yourself, I really do, but I need to protect him. And I'd rather tell him that his father never came back than let him meet you, only for you to leave again because you can't handle it after all."

He moved towards her, to take away her worries, but stopped in his tracks when she spoke up again.

"And let me be very clear about what I mean with 'it'," Astrid continued. "I'm staying with Hamish no matter what. And Hamish belongs on Berk. So before you can even start to consider it, I'm clarifying now that I won't come with you and live back on Phantom Island. Because I'm not taking Hamish away from his other family, his friends, and most importantly, a world that's bigger than his parents and their dragons, no matter how lovely and dream-like that picture seemed when you painted it five years ago. I have to think of Hamish first. Whatever happens, has happened, or will happen between you and me -" She gestured to the two of them. "- comes second. That's the way things are, and I need that to be absolutely clear to you."

"Okay," he nodded, the gears in his head whirring under the pressure of all the new information. "You're definitely a mom, laying down the law like that," he joked, buying himself some time.

Astrid simply pulled up an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "I'm serious, Hiccup."

"So am I. And if that's your reasoning, then I trust you on that, because I don't know a thing about this stuff, about children, or how to raise them. Really all I know is how to deal with dragons, how to be a terrorist, a thief…"

"I'm well-aware," Astrid agreed, the corner of her mouth slightly curling up.

"But then what do you expect me to do? I can practice on a baby dragon, but I don't think they're very representative. Unless, you know -" He flapped his arms. "Hamish can fly and breathe fire."

"It's not about the parenting part, Hiccup." Astrid shook her head. "It's about everything else. About you, actually building a life on Berk. Which doesn't have anything to do with me, or Hamish. Because that life can't consist of just us. That'll drive you crazy."

"I think it's also very likely I'll drive Berk crazy," he pointed out. "They're probably not very excited to see me."

"Then you convince them otherwise," Astrid simply said. "Peacefully, of course."

"What if they don't want peace?"

"Then you don't fight back."

He rolled his eyes. "It's not that easy." Never had been, when it came to Berk.

"Are you really going to give up before even trying?" Astrid shot back, looking at him sharply. "Is that the kind of person you've become?"

"No, that's not what I mean," he defended himself, rubbing the back of his head. "It's just, it sounds ridiculous, when you put it like that. A _life_ on _Berk_ , of all places… I have no idea what that would even look like. Before, I was the son of the Chief, next in line to the throne… I can't possibly go back to that. I think we can both agree that it's wise to keep me far away from any seat of power…" He looked away and sat down in the grass, gesturing to his head. "I don't want it to mess with me again."

Astrid made an affirming sound and sat down next to him, albeit tortuously just out of reach. "I agree."

"But then how…" he wondered out loud.

"I don't know. And even if I did, it's not for me to spell it out to you. But I think you still have a lot to give. To dragons and Vikings alike." He gave her a skeptical look, which she responded to with a quirk of her eyebrow. "I'm a Viking. Your son's a Viking. If you want to be in his life, you can't side with just Vikings or dragons. Not anymore. Do you get that?"

"I do, I guess…" he murmured, plucking at the grass. "It's just a lot to process, and to think about. I didn't know what to expect when I came back, but it wasn't _this_."

"It was quite a shock to me too," Astrid hummed. "And if any of this sounded rehearsed, that's because it was. I had a lot of time to think about you, and Hamish."

He considered asking what exactly she thought about him. But he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Can you tell me about him, then? Hamish?" he asked instead. "I get that you don't want me to meet him, I respect that, but I'm just… curious." He let out a silent laugh. "I tried to watch him a bit this morning from up high, but it's hard to really see the differences with other kids from that angle."

"Then you didn't look closely enough, because he's definitely different," Astrid responded. He checked her face for signs of her being angry with him for stalking, but instead he found her smiling to herself, looking absolutely beautiful. "He's full of energy and spirit, and incredibly determined. I have to watch him constantly, because every time I think 'there's no way he can climb up there', I have to pluck him off something after looking away for only a moment. He fell and broke his leg this spring, which I thought would teach him a little bit about being careful, but he's resilient. Hardly ever gives up on the first try."

"Like you," he smiled.

"I suppose so, although I have a lot more self-preservation," Astrid chuckled. "Now that he's getting older though, he's easier to calm down and he's becoming better at focusing his boundless energy on something more… stationary. I gave him a sketchbook last Snoggletog and he's been loving that, trying to capture every single thing he sees while bombarding me with questions about it. He's _so_ curious, always asking about the why and how of everything he sees. Just, incredibly passionate."

Astrid looked out towards the sea, her grin widening. "He can be a hassle, but it's all in good spirit and he's such a joy to have around. He's so smart, already, he amazes me every single day. I love him so much, he's just…" She sighed, looking at him with a fondness that wasn't meant for him. "He's everything to me."

"He sounds great," he concurred, his heart stinging with a sense of yearning. "But that's only logical. He seems to be taking after you, after all."

Astrid slowly shook her head, apprehension striking her expression. "According to Stoick, and my own parents, he's a lot more like you. Not quite the tinkerer, but the same kind of passion and focus. Especially when he's drawing, his brows knitted as he's bending over his paper… The resemblance is uncanny."

"But how? If he's never met me, how could he be like me…"

"I don't know," Astrid shrugged. "But especially seeing you again now… It's so damn obvious that he's your son. Not that anyone ever doubted that to begin with, given that he has your hair, your eyes, and if I had to judge now, your build." She lowered her voice as she continued, more solemnly: "I guess I had a little bit of Hiccup with me every day."

"And I wasn't here to help…" he breathed. "I should have been there, to support you, instead of dealing with my own yakshit."

"But you didn't know," Astrid stated matter-of-factly.

"I should have," he argued. "I know you wanted me to know, that you looked for me, but you shouldn't have had to do that in the first place. If I hadn't been such a mess, if I hadn't left, then I would have been around, then Hamish would have had a dad. I should have been here to take care of him, and I wasn't, and I don't know…" He buried his hand in his hair. "I don't know how I can make that right, ever."

"You did take care of him in some ways, though," Astrid countered. "Hamish may not have had a father figure around, but with the raids gone, he's had the kind of childhood you and I didn't even dare to dream of. There's peace on Berk, he doesn't have to be afraid at night, and he hasn't had to deal with death the way all of us did. You did that for him."

He scoffed. "Which wasn't exactly intentional."

"And I'm not here to excuse the gigantic heap of mistakes you've made, nor that you weren't here, but I'm thankful for the lack of raids, at least. And I've tried my very best to make sure Hamish knew why you weren't here as well."

"Dad said something like that, yeah. That you made me his 'hero'." He rolled his eyes, indicating the absurdity of that statement.

"Not with that goal, but yes, it kind of ended up that way," Astrid nodded, gathering her hair and draping it over her shoulder. "I wanted him to have the answers before he could start asking where his father was. So I told him that you were fighting this big, bad dragon, and that you couldn't come home because it was very important that she wasn't left alone." She glanced at Stormfly, suddenly looking wistful. "I let him play with mini-Toothless when he was a baby, to give him an idea of what dragons are like, given that he's never actually seen one… And it kind of got out of hand from there. He's so intrigued by the stories I told him about you, and by dragons in general." Her smile returned to her face. "He can spend entire afternoons looking through your Book of Dragons and studying the dragons in it, asking me tons of questions that I don't even know the answer to."

"It's not an understatement to say he's obsessed, and that's largely my fault," she continued, grinning. "Some of the villagers think me crazy for feeding into that and don't hesitate to let me know how much they disapprove, but they can go to Hel." She looked at him with determination. "I'm not raising another dragon killer. Because what you and I fought for, what we both believed - that dragons are good, kind, and deserve to be treated as friends, what I know is _true_ … I want him to believe that too."

"That's… wow, Astrid, I -" He sighed, looking at her, wondering how he'd ever spent a day without her, how he'd ever been lucky enough to find her to begin with. "That's more than I could have wished for. More than I deserve."

"Despite all the shit you put me through and pulled on me, you're still the one who's always fought for the dragons we love. You deserve at least a little bit of credit for that," Astrid smiled. "I can't allow myself to forget about the bad, but that doesn't mean I have to deny all the good."

"Thank you," he sighed, finally feeling like he could somewhat relax. Moving on instinct, he scooted over to her and curled his arms around her frame, letting out a trembling breath when she didn't recoil. She was warm and comforting. Everything he wanted to fight for and more. "Thank you so much."

"I still believe you can do the right thing, Hiccup," Astrid whispered, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "That you're not a lost cause, and that, like I said earlier, you have a lot more to give and good things to do than the many, many mistakes you made as the Phantom. You just have to start believing that too."

He leaned back ever so slightly, gazing into her beautiful eyes. "What makes you so sure?"

Only the slightest smile adorned Astrid's lips, but it was enough to make his heart skip a beat. "Because that's the kind of man I fell in love with."

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and inched forward, moving closer until he could feel her breath on his face. Astrid's eyes widened in surprise. But he also spotted a longing there, a sense of comfort and home that told him it was right, that she wanted it too, her eyes dropping to his lips. That she believed in him and that she didn't hate him. That there was a chance that everything would work out alright. That he hadn't completely screwed up everything.

That he should simply bridge the small gap that remained and kiss her, like she was still his and they had never been apart.

Or like the exact opposite, the reunion they'd both yearned for, pouring every sliver of hurt, of missing into their renewed connection.

He just had to go for it.

But when he was almost there, back with her, Astrid moved away.

"No, Hiccup." Her breath hitched as she shook her head, scurrying off. "No."

"Astrid -"

"I can't," she repeated. "I shouldn't, it's -" Her gaze focused on his face again, and his instincts told him to lean back in, that it would have been fine five years ago if he'd gathered her into his arms and kissed her now, that he could have given her the reassurance she seemed to need.

But he was also, for the first time since he'd seen her again, overwhelmed by this piercing sense of _wrong_ , lodged deep into his chest. Stirred by the way Astrid wrapped her arms around herself, on instinct, reminding him of the scared girl whose heart he'd broken before he'd left Berk. Astrid Hofferson like no one else had ever seen her. Because only he had had the power to do enough unspeakable things to her to break down the resilience that made her who she was.

Of course she hated him even more for that than he already hated himself.

And he was entirely to blame for being too blinded by his own joy to miss that she had just been professional about this. For Hamish's sake. And that there were some things between them that were still utterly, completely _broken_. Just like himself.

"I'm sorry -" he apologised, shuffling backwards too. "I read you wrong, you're only trying to do what's right for Hamish, you and I, that's -"

"No," Astrid interrupted him. "Don't finish that, because whatever you're going to say, it's not true."

"What do you mean?" he scoffed. "I think I -"

"And you always do that, you always think you know, but you don't, you can't possibly know," Astrid clarified, leaning forward and taking his hands in hers. "It's been five years. So much has happened, to both of us. And neither of us know." He shivered when Astrid softly ran her thumb over his right hand, tracing the lines of his scars. "But I know what you do to me. Did, still do. I need my head in this, and I'm afraid that the moment I kiss you, I lose myself, again. I can't afford to listen to my heart. For Hamish's sake."

"But what does your heart tell you?" he dared to ask.

"That I want you in my life. In Hamish's, too," Astrid confessed. He squeezed her hands, happy to see her smile in response. "I want that more than anything. I looked for you, even -"

"I know you did," he reminded her. "My dad told me. In winter, which is crazy."

"And reckless," she agreed. "But I can't do that anymore, because Hamish will suffer too. And I know he will get his heart broken sometime, that's life, and I can't protect him from everything… But I don't want to be the one to do it."

"Or to let me do it."

"At this point, it's the same thing," Astrid shrugged.

"I don't want to do it," he insisted. The thought of that little boy crying because of something _he'd_ done, because Hamish had finally found out who his father really was, hurt him more than he thought possible. "I want to stay, I want to be with you too, and with Hamish, but…" He took a deep breath. "I also can't blame you for being careful. Given everything that's happened."

"That's a good first step."

"Onto the next one, then," he proposed. "Whatever that may be."

"Like I said, that's up to you, because I don't know either," Astrid repeated. She gave him a soft smile. "You just have to do the next right thing, I suppose."

"If you come up with tips after all, they're very welcome," he quipped.

"I don't have tips, but I do have 'things to consider'. Stuff I don't want you to do, and -"

"A set of rules," he guessed.

Astrid rolled her eyes at him. "Now you're making me sound like a typical _mom_ again."

"Because you _are_ Hamish's mom, and I'm trying to respect that," he laughed. "Whatever they are, tell me. They'll be the first rules in life I won't break."

"We'll see about that." Astrid shook her head and grinned. "But okay. First of all, I don't want you to come anywhere near Hamish. And that includes anything that he could associate with you, such as dragons."

"Got it. So then I'm keeping Stormfly with me too?"

Astrid nodded, glancing solemnly at their dragons, who were both relaxing in the sun. "As much as I'd love to have her around, Hamish is smart and I can't risk him figuring it out, or asking enough questions to trip me up."

"And if I want to talk to you, I guess I should just drop you a note?" He cocked his head and smiled. "Like old times."

"Yes, I'd prefer it if you left me a message instead of sneaking in through the window," Astrid quipped. "But I can't come to meet up with you at every time of the day. Hamish comes first."

"I understand."

"But it might not be the worst idea for you to talk to other people, to get an idea of what you want your life here to look like," Astrid proposed. "It may have been five years for me, but it's been nearly eleven for the rest of Berk."

"Who would want to talk to me, though?" he scoffed. "I haven't exactly been their friend."

"Which is why it's even more important to do it. Gobber for instance, I know he's curious, and that he missed you a lot…" Astrid flashed him a smile, a challenge. "And you already talked to your dad, so how much harder could it be?"

"I suppose that's true."

"Although I would advise you to stay under the radar until you're surer of what you want to do. Not just for Hamish's sake, but you coming back, it could…" Astrid bit her lip, clearly measuring her words in a way that Hiccup had always thought was unlike her. "Ruffle some feathers. Not that I expect your dad to have told everyone you're back, so if he's the only one you talked to then -"

"I dropped the Red Death's head on a cliff," he interrupted her, guessing where her thoughts were heading. "I think they knew that was me."

Astrid blinked at him, moved to say something, but then changed whatever colourful insult she'd undoubtedly come up with to a simple "Of course you did." She shook her head. "Then I would be extra careful with who you decide to show your face to. I'll make sure they don't blab to Hamish, but still."

"Don't worry," he reassured her. "I don't exactly expect people to be excited to get to talk to their former resident terrorist again."

"Good," Astrid nodded. "And when you do have an idea, run it by me. As smart and observant as you might think you are -" She lightly poked his chest. "- I think I have got a better read on Berk than you do."

"Sure," he whispered, catching her hand and pulling her towards him in another hug. Because he could have this, at least. And it was already more than he'd hoped for. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Astrid murmured against his shoulder. "I'm not going to go easy on you, though."

"I wouldn't expect anything else," he chuckled. "It's why I love you." He pulled her closer when he felt her tense up. "I don't expect you to say it back. I don't deserve it, not right now. But I'm going to prove to you that if at one point you choose to love me again, if I am just that damn lucky, that at least a very small part of me is worth it. And if you don't, then…" His heart cramped at the thought. "Then I at least want to be worthy of helping you take care of our son."

Astrid laughed and leaned back to look at him. "You should have become a romantic poet." She playfully socked his arm. "I'll believe it when I see it."

" _You alone can make my soul take flight_ ," he recalled, smiling as he rubbed the sore spot. "It's still true."

"Then let's fly," Astrid grinned, getting to her feet and dragging him up with her. "I haven't just had to miss you, after all."

He let her go to collect his discarded helmet and gloves from the grass, then sprinted after her towards where their dragons had already picked up on their enthusiasm. Astrid looked as gracious and powerful as she always had mounting Stormfly, as if the two had never been apart. They belonged together.

It made sense. It was the way things were supposed to be. Just like how, when Toothless' tail clicked into place and they shot off into the air, the sky belonged to Astrid and him alone.

He hadn't lost her yet. And he was prepared to do everything in his power to get her back.

Whatever it might take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the long-awaited Hiccstrid reunion scene! Of course, things are never easy with them…
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [aleteia-ff](https://aleteia-ff.tumblr.com/)! I intend to do Six Sentence Sunday there every Sunday, which will give you all a bit of a preview of what's yet to come! 
> 
> If you want to discuss the fic with me and other people, you are also welcome to join us on the [A Thing Of Vikings Discord Server](https://discordapp.com/invite/xVuZfK2), in the channel #aleteias-fics!
> 
> The story will be updated on Saturday two weeks from now, around 6 PM Central European (Summer) Time! ([What time is that for me?](https://www.timeanddate.com/worldclock/fixedtime.html?msg=The+Phantom+of+the+Archipelago+Update&iso=20200404T18&p1=16))


	8. The Next Right Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone and thank you for your continued support! I hope you enjoyed last chapter; the first part of this story was really about Hiccup coming back to Berk, finding out about Hamish and seeing Astrid and Stoick again. Those were the main, urgent plot threads that remained after the ending of The Phantom of the Arena. Now, Astrid has provided Hiccup with the next step, and I'm very excited to start digging into that :)
> 
> I also realized that two weeks ago, AO3's servers were experiencing issues and update notification emails were sent out delayed, or not at all. I unfortunately do not have any control over that, but I believe it should be okay now again. If you are still missing emails, you can count on me always updating around 6 PM CEST :) 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy!

**Chapter 8: The Next Right Thing**

Being alone again after seeing Astrid for an entire afternoon was… odd, to put it lightly. They had spent the hours after their talk flying, enjoying each other's company in a casual manner, with little actual conversation in between. He didn't necessarily mind that. As much as he wanted to talk to her, he also didn't know what to talk about. After all, where do you start when you want to bridge a gap of five years? Especially because all he really felt he had to say were at least a thousand apologies. But he didn't know if he had to explain himself, if they had to talk about how badly he'd fucked up right before he'd left and about everything that'd happened since. He didn't know anything about any of this, and Astrid hadn't given him a lot of clues on what she wanted either.

He'd always been better at burning bridges than building them. And he couldn't shake the feeling that _something_ was wrong. He just didn't have any idea what it was, and that frustrated him to no end. He didn't like feeling out of the loop and having others decide his fate. Although he supposed it was Astrid's right, after he'd condemned her to her own.

For now, he had to put himself at ease with the memories of an afternoon of simply seeing Astrid smile, enjoying being back in the air again with Stormfly, her best friend. As much as he'd missed Astrid, he couldn't even imagine what it would be like to be without Toothless for such a long time. To be grounded, stuck, without his dearest friend in the entire world there to alleviate that uneasiness. There were many days in which he felt more dragon than Viking, after all. Or human in any way.

Which was why he didn't have a clue where to start with the task Astrid had assigned to him. And she didn't have the intention to help him. Logically. It was his mess to clean up after all.

She had left him just after sunset to join her parents for dinner and take Hamish back home. Naturally, Hiccup couldn't join them, but he'd watched nevertheless as they'd come out of the Hoffersons' house later that evening. Hamish had held on to his mother's hand as they'd walked through the streets of Berk, a few strange looks thrown towards Astrid for her early return. He could see Hamish babbling, but had been too far away to make out what he was telling his mother.

He'd longed to get closer, to find out, to take Hamish's other hand and see how it fit in his. Because as strange as the idea had seemed at first, seeing Astrid walk there with Hamish, a clear smile on her face, had made it clear that she just fit into it naturally. And he wanted to be that other person in her and Hamish's life. He couldn't bear the thought of it being anyone else.

Was there anyone else? Did he have any competition? Had Astrid already found a different candidate in case he didn't live up to her expectations? In case he screwed up again, in case he snapped, in case he turned out to be an extremely shitty father. Even worse than his own.

He tried not to dwell on it, to shake it off, but his mind kept grinding as he tried to fall asleep on one of Berk's cliffs, hugging Astrid's sweater with Toothless curled around him. He did his best to focus on the good parts. On how she'd said she believed in him. How she'd beamed at him while they were flying. How her arms had tightened around him, how she'd still fit when he'd hugged her.

He couldn't forget how lucky he was simply for the fact that she didn't absolutely detest him. That she still wanted to talk to him, that she wanted to give him a chance to be Hamish's father. Even if she didn't love him anymore, and wouldn't ever again. Then again, he'd never been one to stop trying just because something seemed impossible. He'd fought a tyrannical dragon for five years. Surely he could put the same, if not more, effort into winning back Astrid's heart.

It left him to ponder about what Astrid had told him to do. The next right thing. To settle on Berk and start a life there, independent of Astrid and Hamish. To prove his sanity, and that he could deal with people. To "give back to Berk", somehow.

As if he owed them anything beyond an apology.

Still, he tried to keep an open mind as he observed Berk the following day, looking for obvious gaps in the village's current daily business. The lack of dragons was an obvious one, but he doubted anyone would agree with the proposal to kick out the most obnoxious Vikings - starting with Spitelout Jorgenson - and replace them with his dragons. It would arguably also be quite the fire hazard, given that Berk was still made mostly out of wood.

His eyes, and thoughts along with them, constantly wandered towards Astrid and Hamish however. He registered how they moved about the village, how Hamish would almost consistently skip ahead of his mother, only to stop in his tracks and look back as if she was the one who'd run away from him. He didn't fail to notice that wherever Astrid went, people seemed eager to talk to her, but she consistently waved them off, pulling Hamish away from them when the boy decided otherwise.

His heart stung when Astrid and Hamish visited Gobber later that day, the blacksmith teasingly ruffling Hamish's hair before they went inside for a while. His heart yearned when he saw how they ran into Fishlegs, who was carrying a book and knelt down to Hamish's height to show him its contents, Hamish nodding along in excitement. And his heart outright screamed in pain when around dinner time, Hamish caught sight of Stoick the Vast, and basically jumped into his arms.

All of Berk seemed to be able to do the one thing he couldn't. Even his father, despite all his mistakes.

And with that insane, all-consuming sense of jealousy came the indisputable knowledge that his own mistakes were therefore even worse. Because while Astrid was keeping him away from Hamish, she didn't seem to mind all these people, Vikings whom he'd hated, dreaded for so many years, potentially getting near him. The only reason she was keeping Hamish away from some of them undoubtedly being Hiccup himself.

He had to change that. And the only way to do so seemed to do as Astrid had told him to. To somehow fit in with Berk, to squeeze himself into the life Astrid had clearly built for herself, instead of hoping she'd leave it behind for him. Because she wouldn't. At least not right now. And apart from accommodating his pettiness and the way he'd seemingly screwed up every non-dragon part of his life, he couldn't think of a reason to convince her otherwise.

He'd fucked up. He couldn't change that, he'd done it, and a thousand apologies couldn't ever make it right. Instead, he had to prove to her that he wouldn't do it again.

So he waited for night to fall and easily glided down towards the village, hidden under the guise of darkness. He left Toothless in his old hiding spot near the forge, which they'd previously used for less well-meaning visits, and slipped in through the window of his old workshop. He effortlessly found the door to the front of the shop, the lay-out of the place having not changed one bit since he'd worked here every day eleven years ago. He boosted himself up onto one of the workbenches and simply waited to see whether his old master still went through the routine Hiccup knew he loved.

Soon enough, he heard the upbeat whistle of a man who had no sense of pitch whatsoever. And no one told him to knock it off, meaning he was alone.

Hiccup stayed still when Gobber entered the forge, biting his lip and figuring he might be better off waiting to announce his presence until Gobber had gotten settled. When it took Gobber too long to light the forge's fire however, and his ear-piercing humming became outright obnoxious, he decided to put an end to it, and simply lit Inferno.

Gobber instantly jumped backwards, cradling his prosthetic - currently in the shape of his spoon - to his chest, and let out a yelp.

Hiccup couldn't suppress a small smirk. "Hi."

He jumped off the bench and walked over to the main fire pit, casually holding his sword into it until it started to glow. Gobber was still staring at him, wide-eyed, when he withdrew the blade back into the sheath. "Gobber? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah…" Gobber breathed. "Just calming down my rapidly beating heart and trying to assess if I need to go home for a fresh change of undies."

"And what's your conclusion?" he grinned, playing along.

Gobber wavered for a second, shifting around on his stump, his single eyebrow scrunching. "I think we're good."

"I'm glad. Probably should have considered you're at increased risk of a heart attack at your age," he quipped, the forge's simmering flames highlighting the streaks of grey in Gobber's otherwise blond moustache. "Sixty-one this year, right?"

"So let me get this straight." Gobber pointed his spoon-prosthetic at him. "You disappear for eleven years and the first thing you do when you come back is call me old?"

"Yeah, this whole 'reunion' part, I…" He shrugged. "I'm not very good at that."

"I got as much from your father," Gobber casually said.

He frowned, though he was hardly surprised. "He told you I was back?"

"Well the humongous, horrendous dragon head made it kind of obvious, now didn't it?" Gobber rhetorically asked, moving around and closing the shutters in front of the windows. Hiccup didn't know whether to be relieved or worried that Gobber also didn't seem to want any witnesses. Either way, he didn't exactly feel like defending himself in front of the entire village quite yet. "So naturally, I asked whether he'd seen you yet."

"What did he say?"

"That he had, and that you seemed better. Safe for some anger management issues."

"He said _that_?" he hissed.

"No, but that was my conclusion based on how you shoved that shiny sword of yours in his face," Gobber casually remarked.

"Then why are you even talking to me now?" he asked, confused and guarded. It didn't seem right. "If you think I'm dangerous, why risk it?"

"Because the two years I spent doing what _you_ wanted me to do were quite enough. Apart from that little startle just now, I'm not going to let you scare me. Cause I had five years to figure out that your terrorism was an awful lot like the consistent storm of sarcasm and being a know-it-all you used to bombard me with when you were little."

"So what are you trying to say?" he breathed, his fingers itching.

"That you're being aggressive with your father because he hurt you, and that you lash out because you'd rather hurt someone yourself than have that happen again."

"Maybe," he muttered, feeling uncomfortable, exposed. He balled his hand into a fist so he couldn't wrap his fingers around the hilt of his sword, and slowly walked towards the darker part of the room, where he couldn't be seen.

"But I don't want you to feel like you have to defend yourself around me. I know I hurt you in the past, because I'm as much part of Berk as everyone else. I'm part of the reason you left, and I can either keep beating myself up over that, or -" Gobber took a deep breath, looking awfully serious. "Or start this conversation off by saying that I'm sorry for not being better to you when you were a kid. And that I won't do that again." He put up his prosthetic when Hiccup was about to speak up. "I also won't say that what you did in return is at all okay, because it wasn't, oh no, not at all. But I'm not as boar-headed as the rest of the lot. We both made mistakes."

"I'm sorry too," he sniffed, caught by surprise by Gobber's candidness, glad for the shadows hiding him as he quickly wiped his eyes. "I did so much shit, and that's what makes this whole apologising deal so incredibly difficult, you know? Because where do I even start? By saying sorry for being the Phantom? That I left to begin with? That I didn't tell anyone about Toothless? That I was _born_?"

"Never the last part," Gobber interjected, his voice stern. "And let's just keep it at that one 'I'm sorry', alright?"

"If you say so," he conceded. That phrase, along with the way it left his shoulders hanging, made him feel like a teenager again. Powerless. He had to -

"Now, then, with that out of the way," Gobber easily continued, stepping towards him and gesturing towards himself. "Come here and show me your face. I hardly got a proper look at you when Astrid pulled off your helmet in the square."

His breath hitched. "I don't know if -"

"Hiccup," Gobber urged him. "It's _okay_."

"Don't treat me like a wounded dragon," he bit.

"Wouldn't even know how to," Gobber quipped.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't patronise me. I'm not a child."

"Then stop hiding like one."

A distant voice told him not to take that insult, and to bite back instead. To show the other man what he was made of. But another reminded him of all the days he'd spent in this forge. Gobber mentoring him with the kind of patience no one else had had for him at the time. They were part of the very small collection of good memories of Berk he still had.

And he didn't want to soil those anymore than he'd already done.

He took a deep breath, steadying his hands as he pulled off his helmet. He averted his eyes as he shook out his hair, loosely combing his fingers through it so it might look somewhat decent. Not that he should care, this was a forge and Gobber's own personal hygiene was hardly exemplary, but somehow he just… did.

He stepped closer to the fire when Gobber motioned at him to come forward, squinting when the light of the flames hit his face. Contrary to his father, who'd stared until Hiccup had started to feel extremely uncomfortable, Gobber's face immediately opened up into a smile.

"Well would you look at you! You've actually become a man. Handsome too. If I hadn't known you since you were a wee bean…" Gobber joked.

He rolled his eyes and smiled. "Sure, Gobber, thanks for the confidence booster."

"I mean those scars aren't doing you any favours, but I reckon if anyone can have them, it's you. It's all about the way you spin the story." Gobber gestured at his own prosthetics. "Got me quite some lookers in my younger years. Still happens these days, although everyone around here is kind of used to them."

"I don't think I need the flirting tips, Gobber, but thank you," he laughed. Flirting had been a vital skill in his former job as a prostitute, after all. He knew how to make people see him the way he wanted to be seen well enough.

"You made enough use of my smithing techniques, though," Gobber pointed out. "Now if only you hadn't been too lazy to do some of the more menial jobs yourself instead of blackmailing me into making parts for you."

He scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"Should have figured out it was you just based on that, actually," Gobber shrugged. "You hated that back when you were still working here. Always drawing up big inventions but too lazy to actually do the tedious jobs required to make them."

"In my sort-of defence," he argued. "I didn't have a forge, I always had to sneak into villages and use it there during the night. And I knew that you would at least get me good quality." Gobber pulled up his eyebrow, and Hiccup put up his hands in response. "I know that's not an excuse, nothing I could possibly say is an excuse for what I did, I was just complimenting your work." He shrugged, trying to seem at ease even though he had no idea how to handle these kinds of conversations anymore. It had been too long. "I could show you Inferno, if you'd like? That's the sword I made. The flaming one I just used."

"I think you owe me at least that much," Gobber teased.

"Alright," he nodded, walking over to the workbench and putting Inferno down on it. He demonstrated the way the sword extracted itself from its hilt and where its canisters were located.

"Astrid already told me some about it," Gobber nodded, clearly intrigued. "From what she knew, of course, she doesn't have the expertise for it, but… I have to say I'm impressed."

"Astrid talked about me?" he asked, carefully taking the hilt apart.

"All the time. Me specifically she talked to about your inventions, but she told the rest of Berk all your stories. Of where you'd been, how you got your scars. About your dragons."

"That must've gone well," he scoffed, gesturing how he'd fit Inferno's various switches so that they functioned exactly like he wanted them to.

"Better than you'd think, actually," Gobber informed him. "It was just morbid curiosity for most of them at first, wondering how you'd gotten your scars and how you'd turned into all of, well, _this_." Gobber gestured at him. "So she started with how you shot down that Night Fury and built it a new tail, right under my nose."

"Eh, you were very busy with dragon training and cleaning up Ruffnut and Tuffnut's mess, it gave me a lot of hours to myself," he shrugged, trying to disregard the fact that his enemies - _former_ enemies - now all knew about Toothless' single weakness. "But Gods, you should have seen the first version of Toothless' tail I built, it's a miracle I never broke my ankle, or worse, when testing it." He gestured with his foot. "It was literally just a rope attached to my leg, which then led back all the way to the tail fin. But even the first tail that actually worked, the one I flew away from Berk with, it was… Gods, absolutely horrendous. I would show you, but I don't have the designs anymore, I threw them away long ago." He bit his lower lip, scanning the room for paper. "I could draw it out and show you if you'd like." Having found some, he reached forward, but paused midway and looked back. "Or am I getting ahead of myself? So much has happened, after all, and I -"

"I'd love it if you showed me," Gobber interrupted him, his expression one Hiccup couldn't quite decipher. If he didn't know it was highly unlikely, he would've said it was fondness.

Unsure of what to do with that, he grabbed a sheet, along with a charcoal pencil. He started to sketch, the memories of when he'd done it in the back room of this forge almost eleven years ago easily coming back to him. He talked Gobber through how he'd come up with the design to begin with, the stages of testing he'd gone through before he'd landed on the fin that put him in an actual, functioning saddle with a connection to the tail. They laughed together about the obvious engineering mistakes Hiccup had made at the time, because he was always too eager and focused on one thing to take a step back and look at whether he could make improvements to the broader picture.

It felt odd to be interacting with another Viking that casually, even though Gobber had been like family to him way back when. It was almost comfortable.

Eventually, they ended up at a sketch that was very close to Toothless' actual tail, safe for some improvements that had only come to him after flying a Night Fury for many years and having seen how his designs functioned under extreme conditions. They were difficult to spot with the naked eye, and he was keeping those to himself. It was better that way. Safer.

"If you want to see it in practice, I could show you," he proposed. "Toothless is just outside."

Gobber shook his head. "Perhaps sometime in broad daylight. I think you startled me enough for one night."

"That's fair," he hummed. He hadn't really expected anything else. "Would you mind if I used your tools to oil Inferno though? I haven't exactly been in a position to do proper maintenance on it."

"Not at all, go ahead," Gobber pointed into the general direction of where the supplies were. "Let me know if you can't find what you need."

Hiccup thanked him and gathered his tools, taking Inferno further apart on the bench and examining its parts with scrutiny. The shop became mostly silent again, apart from his tinkering, and as much as he welcomed the absence of the buzzing in his ears that'd come up halfway through their conversation, it also made him uneasy. Because he couldn't predict what would come next.

He let out a sigh of relief when Gobber walked up next to him, took his sketches of the tail and started studying them. "Have you ever considered making it automatic?"

"I have, but it's not that easy. Its design should be very intricate, and it would require a lot of testing to get it right. I haven't exactly had the resources for that," he explained. "It'd have to be the most reliable thing I've ever built, because if something goes wrong, I won't be there to help Toothless, and the thought of something happening to him because of a mistake _I_ made…" He shook his head, trying to shake it off. "He's my best friend, and I'm not going to let that happen to him. At least this way I have a bit of control over the situation. If he goes down, I go down too and I'm there to help him."

"But he also can't get away on his own in case something happens to you," Gobber pointed out, fumbling with his moustache.

"No…" he agreed, as if that scenario hadn't plagued him many times before. If he were to be captured again, or if they were otherwise separated. "So I can't fail."

"Well, if you do ever feel like working on that idea, you're welcome here. With the raids gone and all, we have enough materials to spare. No need for constant new weapons if there are no dragons to fight and no one sabotaging them."

"If you're ever short of work…" he suggested.

"You're a cheeky bastard," Gobber chuckled, hitting him on the back of his head with his prosthetic.

He couldn't help but grin as he rubbed the sore spot. It felt familiar. "But about your offer, it's… That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," he confessed, looking straight at Gobber. "Not the tail, but about working here. I was wondering if you'd like to take me on as your apprentice again."

"Aren't you a little old for that? Sure, I could teach you still, but not that much. Besides, I'm not exactly in the market for an apprentice," Gobber told him. "Took on the Ingerman twins about four years ago."

"Oh, really?" He tried not to let the disappointment sound through in his voice. Somehow, he'd never really considered the possibility of Gobber teaching someone else. "Those are Sluglegs' kids, right, Fishlegs' older brother? I don't remember their names, they were like, what, five when I left Berk?"

"Brant and Brenda, yeah," Gobber nodded. "Didn't really think much of them at first, until Sluglegs stuffed them in here one afternoon, desperate to get some time to himself. Turned out Brenda had quite an eye for it, and Brant's good with his hands. Been training them ever since."

"That's great, I mean, you have to retire some day after all," he nodded, sounding as genuine as he could.

"Indeed, I'm not getting any younger, although you might think the opposite just by looking at me," Gobber smiled, puffing out his chest.

He chuckled, then averted his gaze to Inferno. "If you do need help though, let me know."

"Why are you so eager? There's not much more I can teach you, seeing what you already came up with yourself," Gobber pointed out.

"Well, I talked to Astrid yesterday," he started. "Told her I already knew about Hamish."

"Yes, your dad told me about that little planning mishap. No one wanted you to find out that way, kid."

"It's fine. It was a lot to take in, but there's nothing I can do about it, right? I just have to manage it, and -"

"Hiccup," Gobber interrupted him. "It's okay to be shaken. You have a child, one who's an awful lot like you if I have to say so myself. That's a lot to take in."

"Being upset doesn't help if I'm not out there trying to fix it," he insisted. "So I told Astrid I want to be in his life. Learn how to be a father. But she doesn't want that. Not right now, at least. And I don't blame her, but…"

He bit his lip, yanking on one of Inferno's switches a little too roughly and forcing his thoughts back to the matter at hand. "She told me she wants me to settle on Berk. To build a life here, independent of the two of them. So it's not as easy for me to run away if things go bad with her, I presume."

"Not exactly a small task," Gobber hummed.

"Indeed, and I have no idea where to start, and even if Astrid does, she's not helping me. She just told me she thinks I have a lot to give to Berk, still, but what am I supposed to do with that? Start a bakery? I mean, what do I owe them, really?" He clenched his jaw. "Berk spit me out when I was a kid in every way possible. Made me feel worthless, like a failure. The worst child a Chief could possibly wish for. I'm not innocent either, I gave Berk what I thought they deserved, because they were dragon killers. Still are. Just because they can't get their hands on any dragons now, doesn't mean they wouldn't still slaughter them if they got the chance to. And I don't see what I owe them beyond an apology for the methods I used to prevent them from committing those atrocities. They hate me even more than they did when I was a kid anyways."

"Berk took care of the woman you love, and your son," Gobber told him, and it was only then that Hiccup realised he'd said all of that out loud.

"I'm sorry, Gobber, that wasn't…" he tried.

"I don't blame you for being resentful, Hiccup. You had every right to be angry. Astrid made that clear enough in the stories she told us. But if you think Berk hasn't realised they have a debt towards you too, albeit in their own way, then you're wrong. They could have shunned Astrid, casted her out for falling pregnant and giving birth to not just a bastard, but the son of the worst enemy Berk had faced in years. But they didn't. Or the majority didn't, at the very least." Gobber pointed his prosthetic at him, strengthening his words. "Perhaps it's time you, and Berk, focus on that, instead of on settling the score."

"But what if Berk won't?"

"Then you show you're the bigger man, instead of retaliating. That's what got us into this mess in the first place," Gobber wisely said. Astrid had said the same the day before.

"Will you let me work here, then? You don't have to pay me, I can hunt for everything I need. You could take some days off, let me teach Brant and Brenda, and it's…" He gestured around. "It's the only thing I can think of on this island that doesn't have anything to do with Astrid, and that I'd actually like to do."

"I don't know, Hiccup," Gobber wavered.

"What's making you doubt? I'm a good blacksmith, you know that, you said that yourself," he pressed on.

Gobber frowned, shaking his head. "It just doesn't quite feel right."

"Because of my acts as the Phantom, right?" he deduced, trying not to let his frustration slip out. "Because I've fucked everything up for good, and if you don't even want to let me fix it, then where else am I supposed to go?"

"No, Hiccup, that's not it. You're welcome here any time, but you're being as stubborn and boar-headed as your father, so focused on fixing the many, _many_ mistakes you made that you're not even considering any other options," Gobber argued. "And completely missing the point I think Astrid's trying to make."

He clenched his jaw, not entirely appreciating the comparison to his father. "How so?"

"I reckon that if you'd been happy living your life as a blacksmith, no matter how much Berk mistreated you, you never would've left on the back of a dragon to begin with."

He tried to speak up, to argue back, but Gobber stopped him. "Hiccup, as talented as you are, and as passionate as you've always been about your projects, if I look back now, they've always been a means to an end. Of course that's what being a blacksmith is about, to make things that people can actually use, but from the moment you could tinker, and every second you spent in here, everything you ever made or designed, it's always been about one thing." He held up the designs of Toothless' tail. "Dragons. First to kill them, then to help them, and now, looking at that sword and flight suit of yours, to be like them."

He raked through his mind, sure he could come up with a counter through his many years of experience. But he was left empty-handed. "You're right," he agreed, deflating.

"Am I ever not?" Gobber asked, suggestively moving his eyebrow.

He laughed, shaking his head. "But then where does that leave me? Dragons, and Berk, they…" He put some of Inferno's components back together, marvelling at how they finally clicked again rather than squealed. "They don't fit."

"They fit together for over three hundred years. Just not in the way you'd like them to."

"I wouldn't exactly consider the War 'fitting'," he snorted.

"Maybe," Gobber gave him. "But people try to find methods to survive. Killing dragons was the way to do that."

"It's a part of our - the Viking - culture, though," he argued, only barely correcting himself in time. "I was told every single day that I wasn't a real man until I'd killed my first dragon."

"Yet not a single dragon has been killed on Berk in the past five years. And we still have enough men."

He stared down Inferno's hilt, checking for irregularities. "Because they were all gone, right? No other option."

"Not many of them have been seen, aye, not here nor in other nearby parts of the Archipelago. But no one's gone out to look for them either, not even to do dragon training." Gobber poked the side of his face. "Peace might not be as impossible as you make it out to be in that head of yours."

"Even if that's true, they're going to come back though, I think," he muttered. "There's nothing keeping them close to the Red Death's island anymore, and some of them have gone years without any reminders of how dangerous people can be…" He bit his lower lip. "I don't want them to get hurt."

"Now if only we had someone around who had years of experience in making sure _that_ doesn't happen," Gobber quipped. "And just needs a more peaceful approach."

"Of course," he realised, his eyes widening, the corners of his mouth curling up into a grin. "Gobber, you're a genius."

"Hardly more my idea than your own, kid," Gobber smiled. "Just need someone to talk through that thick skull of yours."

"I suppose so," he admitted, his grin widening when Inferno's blade slid out of its hilt without any problems. "Still, thank you. I'm just not sure if being on watch all the time to keep dragons and Berkians from getting at each other's throats again really counts as building a life here, but… I guess it's a start."

"Which is what I reckon you need right now. And if you find you need help, who knows, maybe you should be the one to give me dragon training this time around," Gobber joked.

"Then maybe you should first muster up the courage to meet Toothless," he laughed, clicking Inferno's canisters back into the hilt, dousing the blade in Monstrous Nightmare oil, and marvelling when the blade lit up.

"Who knows, maybe one day. A different kind of dragon experience couldn't hurt, I suppose."

"Let me know when you're ready," he grinned.

Gobber smiled back at him, with a kind of joy that made Hiccup want to excuse himself, exhaustion finally settling into his bones. "I think I'm just going to sleep on it for a night. See if anything else comes to me, and if not, then you're right, this can be a start."

"Just remember, Hiccup," Gobber told him. "Only a very small number of people in this world are set on waging war no matter what. And while they are capable of making an enemy out of anyone, both dragons and people, most of us aren't like that. In the end, we, like you and your dragons, just want to live in peace too."

He nodded and thanked Gobber once more before sneaking out, telling him he'd take his statement to heart. Even though, deep down, he wasn't sure if he really believed him.

* * *

As much as he wanted to sleep, having made a small camp on one of the cliffs on the other side of the island, high above the arena, he kept circling back to his conversations with Gobber, and Astrid before that.

Astrid had told him to simply do the next right thing. Gobber had told him that all Berk and its Vikings wanted was essentially just peace too. But the statement seemed so alien, coming from people who had for many, many years definitely been in the wrong.

" _Right_."

The more often he repeated the word to himself, the less sense it started to make. Because he still had this wish, this ultimate 'right' he wanted to achieve, the dream he'd had for all dragons to live in freedom. And the suggestion he and Gobber had come up with, for him to essentially keep dragons away from Berk, it didn't fit into that idea. It could solve his issue with Astrid and Hamish, but it didn't serve his goal. Because dragons should be safe on Berk too, everywhere, ideally, and simply herding them out of Vikings' reach didn't achieve that. It was something that would snap eventually, a post he could never abandon once he took it on. Everything would deteriorate if he did.

In the end, the Vikings living on Berk were still the problem. As they always had been. From the moment they'd first sailed here. He'd been confronted with that every day since he'd been born. It would be easier to try to force them out, again, but he couldn't get Gobber's words out of his head.

"They took care of Astrid and Hamish when I didn't…"

He had always operated on the assumption that Vikings killed dragons because they liked to do so. That that had been their justification. And that they'd stopped to see it was wrong generations ago, and that they no longer needed a reason to do it to begin with. It'd been the way he'd been raised, after all, every single part of his life, of Berk in its entirety revolving around dragons and who could kill the most of them. They enjoyed it. He knew that.

_Just wait until you spill a Nadder's guts for the first time! Or mount your first Gronckle head on a spear! What a feeling!_

It'd been the most enthusiastic he could recall his father being about anything. It had been the last conversation they'd had before he'd left Berk, after all, and had haunted him for many years since.

Yet Gobber had told him otherwise. That in the end, the Berkians didn't want the War either, that they had simply been defending themselves. That self-defence, the village's survival, had still been their justification. That somewhere, deep down, they still knew they were wrong.

Astrid had realised just how wrong she'd always been. Albeit only after he'd shown her.

He'd always believed that she'd been the exception. That there was no use in trying with the rest of Berk as they were just too stubborn and selfish. But both his father and Gobber hadn't laughed in his face when he'd proposed they could meet Toothless. Gobber had even joked about Hiccup teaching him…

"And perhaps I'm being more hopeful and optimistic than I have any right to be, or just a complete fool for Astrid, but…" he muttered to Toothless.

Maybe the next right thing was for him to start believing that there were other people on Berk, at least one, who knew, deep down, that they'd been wrong as well. And that they just needed someone to show them how to be right instead.

He smirked to himself.

Because luckily, he had a good idea of where to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [aleteia-ff](https://aleteia-ff.tumblr.com/)! I intend to do Six Sentence Sunday there every Sunday, which will give you all a bit of a preview of what's yet to come! 
> 
> If you want to discuss the fic with me and other people, you are also welcome to join us on the [A Thing Of Vikings Discord Server](https://discordapp.com/invite/xVuZfK2), in the channel #aleteias-fics!
> 
> The story will be updated on Saturday two weeks from now, around 6 PM Central European (Summer) Time! ([What time is that for me?](https://www.timeanddate.com/worldclock/fixedtime.html?msg=The+Phantom+of+the+Archipelago+Update&iso=20200404T18&p1=16))


	9. Man to Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! I hope you're all still fine and that you'll enjoy this chapter :)

**Chapter 9: Man to Man**

If there was one thing glaringly obvious, it was that even though Berk was seemingly expanding and improving everywhere else, no one had bothered to take the time to look after its arena. Hiccup couldn't help but frown as he inspected the remnants of the iron caging over the top, having gone rusty in the years since he'd destroyed most of it to allow dragons to escape. The cells and their doors weren't much better, some of them barely hanging onto their hinges.

As much as a waste of architectural design and space it was, it also strengthened what Gobber had told him the day before. That the arena was no longer used to keep dragons captive, or as a kill ring. And that they didn't train teenagers to kill dragons anymore. Not here, at the very least.

Good.

"The arena, Hiccup? Really?" he heard behind him.

He turned around, spotting Astrid leaning on one of the iron bars. She looked as beautiful as the last time they'd spoken, her hair loosely braided over her shoulder, lighting up golden in the sun.

"Morning, milady," he greeted her, smiling brightly.

Astrid rolled her eyes. "Morning to you too. I'm surprised to actually _see_ you here, given that that was never actually your kind of thing around here."

"This time around I wanted you to actually find me, though, so no reason to hide. Doesn't seem like anyone ever comes here anyways."

"Then you might want to take off your helmet so I can actually see your face, too," Astrid smirked.

"Oh, woops." He quickly pulled it off, watching Astrid make her way down into the arena. "I've been wearing it so much the past years, you know, as protection, that I tend to forget about it."

"Can't blame you for putting safety first," Astrid hummed, greeting Toothless as he bounded over to her by scratching him under his chin, and extensively hugging Stormfly before turning back to him. "So why did you want me to come down here?"

"Because I have a plan," he smirked, bouncing on the front of his feet.

Astrid pulled up an eyebrow. "Already?"

"Yep. I went to Gobber last night, like you suggested, asking him if I could become his apprentice again."

Astrid crossed her arms, leaning against the arena wall. "How did that go?"

"Not too bad, actually. He's not afraid to talk to me and to say what he thinks, and that's kind of refreshing. I showed him how Inferno works and sketched out Toothless' tail too. It was… _nice_ ," he shrugged.

"I'm glad," Astrid smiled. "So you're going to work with him again then? What about Brant and Brenda?"

"No, because one of the things Gobber told me was that he believed that if I ever could've been happy living as a blacksmith on Berk, that I wouldn't have left Berk to begin with. And I think he's right."

"He definitely has a point there," Astrid concurred.

"He pointed out that all my inventions and plans always had something to do with dragons. Everything I ever built, from the contraption I used to shoot Toothless down, to my flight suit." He gestured with his leather wings, as if his point wasn't obvious yet. "Dragons have always been the one constant in my life. And I don't want to abandon them."

"Hiccup, I already told you," Astrid sighed. "As much as I love Stormfly, I'm not taking Hamish to live with dragons, that's not how you raise a child."

"I know, and I get that," he acknowledged. "But the dragons are going to come back to Berk one day or another. Some of them haven't seen anything other than the Red Death's island from the moment they were born in the Rookery, others have gone so long without seeing Vikings that they might have forgotten what it's like to be hunted and endangered. And I don't want them to get hurt. Not again."

Astrid frowned. "I'm going to assume your plan is not to go back to being the Phantom."

"No, but I do want to go back to protecting them. So if dragons come near Berk, I will make sure they don't get involved with Vikings whatsoever. But that's not a sustainable solution. I can't be everywhere at once, after all, no matter how much I'd like to be. So instead, I should teach others how to do it as well." He smiled when he saw Astrid's face open up, knowing he'd caught her attention, had captured her. "Which starts with believing that you're not the only one who's open to that idea. That you're not the exception, but just the first, like I wrote to you in my final letter. That I simply need to show the others too. And I'm going to do that."

He theatrically pointed to the stone at his feet. "Right here."

He gestured to the arena around him. "This place looks completely abandoned and neglected, which makes it perfect. It's close by so people can actually come here, but also far enough from the village for others to ignore me if they want to. It's out of sight of Hamish. It's something people can choose to opt into, instead of me forcing it upon them. Because I'm not doing that again, I'm past that, _really_. Stormfly can stay here as well, so you can come see her anytime you want without having to track me down, and I'm even thinking of using one of the cells as a bedroom for myself. This is going to be a long-term project after all, cause like I said, I'm here to stay, and I -"

He paused, realising he'd been rambling, and looked at Astrid for a sign of disapproval. But he only found her smiling fondly.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, suddenly feeling awkward.

"Nothing much," Astrid cryptically commented. "Just that you remind me of the Hiccup I knew back on Phantom Island. And the passion he had for everything he did."

"I'm still that Hiccup," he told her, taking a step towards her, but stopping halfway. It was already hard enough not to hug her, to respect the line she'd set for them. He shouldn't make it any more tempting for himself to cross her. "And I'm going to prove that to you."

"It sounds like you've got a good start, indeed," Astrid nodded. "I like it, really. I think it could work. I might even be able to make some recommendations."

"That's great, -"

"What did Stoick think of it?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "You're the first one I told."

Astrid narrowed her eyes. "Don't you think you should ask him? This is, after all, still his island."

"I hadn't really considered that yet," Hiccup admitted, laughing sheepishly.

"I figured," Astrid chuckled. "When's the last time you asked permission to do anything on Berk, after all?"

 _When I asked you to marry me_ , he wanted to say, but he decided to simply grin instead. "When I was twelve, maybe? I honestly don't remember. My puberty was rough on everyone around here."

Astrid rolled her eyes, although she was clearly smiling. "Then let's take care of that right away. I'll come with you, Hamish is with my parents at Tuffnut's anyways. He's organising some sort of play for the kids, on the 'long and heroic histories of the Thorstons', or something like that, don't even ask. He might just be doing it to show Solveig that the world isn't all about the Jorgensons, with Spitelout always pretending otherwise."

"Solveig?" he frowned. "Snotlout's mom? I haven't seen her on Berk in ages, I thought she'd passed away."

"I meant Snot and Ruff's daughter," Astrid clarified. "They named her after her."

"Oh." He remembered her, the little girl with the long, black braids. "That just sounds so weird to me. Snotlout having a kid, of all people. Seems like yesterday he was picking on me every chance he got. Never took Ruffnut for the domestic type either."

"Believe me, she still isn't, she does it all in her very own way," Astrid chuckled. "But yeah, things change, Hiccup. Snot turned 26 this year too, you know, just like you and me. He was bound to grow up one day. Although I'm not going to let anyone, ever, hear me call Snotlout 'mature'. But I'm also not going to deny how much he cares for Solveig."

"It's very sweet he named her after his mom," he nodded, ignoring the thought that _Snotlout got to be a dad, while he didn't._ "Snot was always a bit of a Mommy's boy, I suppose."

"Hard to blame him, with a father like that…" Astrid muttered, something darker crossing her expression. But it brightened again before he could ask. "So let's go see Stoick. But first…" She grinned mischievously, competitively in her thoroughly Astrid Hofferson way. "Let's see if Stormfly and I can beat you in a race today."

She sprinted off, hopping onto Stormfly and taking to the air.

"That's not fair!" he shouted, running over to Toothless and chasing after her, grinning in delight.

At least some parts of his life were finally starting to feel normal again. To the extent that they ever had been to begin with.

* * *

Eventually, even though Hiccup didn't really want to, they landed back on solid ground. It'd taken Astrid quite some time to convince him that no, they weren't doing another lap, and that they had to talk to his father instead. He could see it in her eyes though, that she hadn't wanted to leave any more than he did. There was this freedom that came with being in the air, this overwhelming sense of possibility, of being care-free for just a little while. They didn't need to worry about the future up there, nor dwell on the past. All that mattered was the present, the right then and there.

Where there was a chance that she might still love him back after all. The notion of it when she glanced at him and smiled, her eyes shining with pure, utter enjoyment, telling him so much more than her words ever could.

Astrid wasn't one to lose herself to romance. She only confessed her feelings once she was absolutely sure about them, both her gut and her head telling her it was alright. Once she was there, she went all out, stating her opinion so often that there couldn't possibly be any confusion about it. But it'd taken her a long time to tell him she loved him at first. While he'd seen that fondness and joy in her eyes for months already by that time. He just hadn't called her out on it. Because he also hadn't dared to hope that he'd been right.

He believed that he saw hints of that fondness he used to be at the receiving end of when they were flying together. But he didn't see it often enough to draw actual conclusions. Not yet, at least.

He had to fight for it, still.

He made sure to stay out of sight, hiding behind the Chief's house while Astrid dropped Stormfly off in the arena and headed there by foot. He heard her knock on the front door not much later, and his father open it to let her in. Taking that as his cue, he and Toothless slid in through the loft's window.

"Hiccup should be here any minute…" he heard Astrid say downstairs as he made his way to the edge of the loft.

"Present," he announced, shooting the both of them a smile when they looked up towards him.

"Good to see you," his father greeted him as he walked down the stairs, sounding awfully genuine.

"You can stay up, bud," he told Toothless.

Toothless eyed him for a minute, but when Hiccup nodded again, telling his friend that he would be all right, the dragon stretched himself out on the edge of the loft, his tail casually hanging over the edge. Hiccup didn't miss how his father's eyes flickered up to it, his expression wary.

"So, Astrid was telling me that you wanted to talk about something?" his father awkwardly recovered.

"Yes," he nodded. "But where to start…"

"I updated him last night," Astrid said, sitting down in one of the chairs. "He knows about what I asked you to do, and that I don't want Hamish to know you're back until that's done."

"And I respect that," his father instantly said. "It's Astrid's right to decide what's good for Hamish. And I agree it could be a lot for him if you were to be introduced to each other and it doesn't… work out." Hiccup could almost hear him swallow down his last words.

He decided to ignore his father's unease in his reply. "That's why I came up with a plan. You see, while I was fighting the Red Death, most dragons in this area of the Archipelago stayed close to her. Because they couldn't ignore her call for help, even though it wasn't always strong enough to actually persuade them to fight. But now that she's gone, the dragons could come back to Berk too. It won't be in raids, but nevertheless, they have spent such a long time without getting near Vikings that it's… very hard to anticipate how that might go down. So -"

"Hiccup," Astrid interrupted him, gesturing to his face. "We might understand you better if you take off your helmet."

"Right," he nodded, quickly shrugging it off so he couldn't dwell on what that meant. Astrid was here too, it wasn't just his father. He was fine. "Anyways, I was thinking that yes, I can keep dragons away from Berk, but that's not really a permanent solution, right? I can't be everywhere at once, and I don't want to be. So I want to teach Berk how to deal with dragons themselves. Those who are interested, that is. Of course, there's the rest of the Archipelago too, but -"

"But you might want to try Berk first," Astrid hummed. "Like you said, you can't be everywhere at once." She smiled softly. "Small steps."

"I'm not really good at thinking small," he laughed.

"Which is why I'm here," Astrid indulged him.

Hiccup smiled back at her, his heart warming fondly, before looking back at his father, who'd mostly been nodding along. "And the reason I'm here is to ask you if I could use the arena to do that." He quickly glanced at Astrid, unable to look his father in the eye as he uttered his next sentence. "It's still your island after all."

"Yes."

Hiccup's eyes flickered back to his dad's face, which had been _deformed_ by a strangely happy smile. "I'm sorry?"

"You can use the arena," his father nodded, _excited_.

"Wait, really?" On the loft, Toothless moved slightly in response to how Hiccup's voice had just shot up. "Just like that? No scepticism, no endless stream of questions? You're not going to tell me it won't work?"

"Hiccup -" Astrid started, but his father spoke up before she could finish.

"No." His father looked at him, intently. Seeming genuine. "I like your idea. Berk might not agree with me, but I think it's what it needs. I don't want things to go back to the way they were. I want peace. For Berk, and for you. And if you think you can teach the rest of us how to make a dragon do, well, _that_." He pointed at Toothless, whose ears perked up at being referred to. "Or simply not try to burn us on the spot, then we ought to take that chance."

"Wow. Okay then," he muttered, finding himself at a loss for words. He didn't like that. He wanted to be prepared for anything. Regathering himself, he turned towards Astrid, because talking with her had always been so much easier. And somewhere in the back of his head, this situation, the three of them calmly talking something over, still felt terribly weird. "Astrid, you said you know some people who might be interested, right?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Fishlegs will want to join in for sure. Ever since I told him your stories and showed him your Book of Dragons, he's been trying to put together every bit of information on dragons still available on Berk. Trying to reconcile it with what you'd found out."

He pulled up the eyebrow he no longer had. "Did he actually find anything other than contradictions?"

"I've been asking him the same, because if I compare what Berk wrote on Nadders in the Dragon Manual and what I know about Stormfly it's just, such a mess," Astrid shrugged. "But he always talks about how it's not necessarily about the dragon information itself, but instead about the 'historical context' of it all."

"It's important for our stories to be remembered," his father added. "Where we came from, who we are now. That we preserve our history, and that people know it, so it doesn't…"

"Get as easily destroyed as the portraits I blew up in the Great Hall," Hiccup added himself, so no one else could beat him to it. "Yeah, that makes sense."

Stoick and Astrid shared a look of pure awkwardness and unease, ending with Astrid clearing her throat. "It makes Fishlegs a good storyteller. And he's definitely interested in dragons beyond that."

"You don't need to act like I didn't just say that," he countered. "I know what I did. We don't need to dodge it."

"Hiccup, I don't know what we could gain by discussing that particular event right now," his father started. "What's done is done."

"Because that's how we always used to solve things around here, right?" he bit, pacing through the room as he spoke. "What's done is done, it's in the past, let's bury it and never speak of it again. Believe me, I don't want to talk about it either, but -"

"Hiccup," Astrid chided him. " _I_ don't want to talk about it. I want to focus on the future. Okay?"

Reluctantly, he forced himself not to put up a fight. "Okay."

Astrid gave him a curt nod. "So, as I was saying… Fishlegs will want to join in for sure. I already introduced Heather to Stormfly back on her ship and that went down well, so she's probably open to more. Tuffnut's crazy enough to try anything, as long as he doesn't have any of the kids with him. Same would go for Ruffnut, who's also about the only person who could convince Snot to do something his dad doesn't approve of. She's about to give birth though, so she wouldn't be up for it now. But Heather and Fishlegs could be a good start, and they might convince others. Gobber and you could of course join as well, Stoick. And perhaps you know others too?"

 _Stoick_ , not Chief, as most people referred to him.

"It's difficult," his father nodded. "Dragons aren't exactly a topic people openly state their opinion on these days. Unless they're looking for conflict."

"People argue over _dragons_?" he chuckled. The idea sounded absurd.

"I spread your stories about dragons like you asked me to, Hiccup," Astrid told him. He'd expected her to laugh along, but her expression was completely serious. "I tried to convince them as best as I could. But it's not that easy to get people to believe something different than what they've been told all their life. It wasn't for me either, after all. And like me, many Berkians need to see something before they really believe it. But the idea that there might be more to them than the monsters they were made out to be, that's definitely there for some of them."

"Okay," he nodded. He had to attempt to believe her, somehow, if he was ever going to make this work. Or at least make Astrid believe he was trying. "So what do we do? Approach them tonight and ask them to stop by the arena?"

"We could do that," Astrid agreed, leaning her elbows on the table and supporting her head with one of her hands. "Heather came back yesterday evening, so she should be home. And I can give Tuffnut a heads-up when I go pick up Hamish."

"If I can just weigh in here…" his father started.

"Of course," he snapped. He only belatedly realised he sounded a tad sarcastic. "Dad," he added, not sure if that made it better or even worse. It was a word that sounded foreign on his tongue, as if he wasn't supposed to say it.

"I think you should publicly announce your return to the village," his father suggested. Hiccup glanced at Astrid, because that idea was ridiculous, but found a very clear 'hear him out' in her gaze. "Ever since you very clearly let the people know you killed that dragon, Berk's been restless. They don't know _where_ you are, what your intentions might be, and they're too unsure to look for you. That only creates rumours, and it'd be better to put an end to them, given that most of them aren't true."

"Can't imagine they've been saying much good about me, indeed," he scoffed. He looked towards Astrid. "But Astrid, if you don't want Hamish to find out I'm around, then I don't know if it's a good idea."

"I know, but if you start interacting with more people than just us, word will get out eventually," Astrid sighed. "And Stoick's right, it's definitely better. I've lost track of the number of people who've asked me whether I know whether it was you and what you're 'planning'. Always implying it's something sinister."

"But Hamish -"

"Is my responsibility. I don't want him to know about you, so I will make sure he doesn't. As long as you make sure you don't do anything too obvious, or actively seek him out, it's not your concern," Astrid promptly decided.

"Okay, well, if you're sure…" he wavered, looking at Astrid, because Hamish was _their_ child, and he ought to be Hiccup's concern too, right? But her stern look told him otherwise, and that he shouldn't argue. That there were enough other things she could argue with him about, but which she had instead put to rest. For now.

"Then we should call a village meeting, I suppose?" he said instead of getting himself into even more trouble. He gestured at his father. "Or you should, probably."

"Yes, of course!" His father clapped his hands together. "I'll speak first, and then you can make your statement. It doesn't need to be overly official -"

"As long as it doesn't sound as if you're declaring war," Astrid added.

He rolled his eyes. "Of course. I know that, believe me."

"Some time to prepare might be nice, though," his father nodded. "So I reckon we should do it tomorrow afternoon."

"Why not tonight?" he asked, because he wanted it to be _his_ decision to make.

His father thought for a moment, then nodded. "That should be possible." He scratched his beard. "Most people are around the village. And the fishermen who aren't wouldn't be back by tomorrow afternoon either."

"Then let's do tonight," he decided.

"Are you sure about that, Hiccup? Don't you want to go through it with us, or maybe just me first?" Astrid cut in. "It's not exactly a small thing. And you're not incredibly well-liked, to put it mildly."

"That's the kind of crowd I'm used to," he shrugged. "And I have all afternoon to prepare. I'd appreciate your help though." Or any chance to spend time with her, rather. "If you're not busy, of course."

"I think I can make time." Astrid looked at him sternly. "I just want to make sure you're ready for that."

"I haven't properly talked to these people for almost eleven years. I don't think I could ever be truly ready. I just want to get it over with. Focus on the future." He gave Astrid one of his most disarming smiles. "Like you said."

"Okay, if you're _really_ sure of it…" Astrid paused, but he didn't speak up to tell her otherwise. She glanced at him for a long moment, then moved on with her sentence. "Then we need someone to watch Hamish tonight, because I can't leave him with Tuffnut all day. I can ask my parents to do it, but they also need to be informed of what's going on. And since you need to talk to them at one point or another anyways, we might as well get it over with as soon as possible. It'd be good practice, if anything."

"Sure," he agreed. He couldn't remember much more about the Hoffersons than how they'd always been at the front of the raids, fighting for their village. Astrid's mother in particular. They hadn't really interacted with each other much back when he still lived on Berk. Astrid had wanted nothing to do with him at the time, after all, so he had just been the Chief's no-good son to them, like to the rest of Berk.

"Alright." Astrid got up from her chair. "Then, Stoick, if you don't mind, I'm going to ask them to come over here. I'd appreciate it if you stuck around too, even if it's just to mediate." She glanced at Hiccup. "They don't exactly have a high opinion of you, and I don't want to get into a fight."

He put his hands up in the air, claiming innocence. "I won't pick one."

"I'll try to be back as soon as possible," Astrid continued, heading for the door. "Just try to make yourself comfortable in the meantime. Sit down, relax, you know." The corner of her mouth twitched up into a smirk, her expression suddenly much less serious than it had been ever since they'd arrived here. "Look human."

He smiled back at her and saluted sarcastically before he let himself fall into one of his dad's chairs with as little grace as he could. Astrid laughed and shook her head at him, then walked out the door.

It took him a few moments of complete silence to realise that he was now once again alone with his father. And Toothless. But being with Toothless was like being alone at this point. Quiet and peaceful.

His father cleared his throat. "Would you like some tea?"

He didn't. But he also didn't particularly want to talk any more than strictly necessary, feeling like he had a headache coming for him. "Sure."

That agreement didn't spare him. As soon as his father got up and started heating the kettle, he resumed his talking. "Astrid can seem quite short with you, but I assure you that she's only trying to do what's best for Hamish. Which is being practical. It doesn't mean she doesn't care."

"She's Astrid," he shrugged. "If she has an opinion, she states it. It's why I've always appreciated it. I'd be concerned if there were things she wasn't telling me. Although she hasn't told me everything yet, cause I only just got back, but I feel like she will, with time. Because that's her. I know it is."

"I suppose that's true," his father admitted. "I think she was just a bit shaken by you finding out about Hamish on your own, and I don't want you to feel antagonised."

"You don't want me to run away," he countered. "But I won't. I made a promise to Astrid, and I want to meet Hamish. Until I've proved that I deserve that, she has every right to make me the villain. I _was_ the villain. It won't get us any further if we keep denying that."

"I know, Hiccup. Perhaps more than anyone here," his father sighed. "I just don't want to go back to that."

"Me neither," he muttered. "But then don't patronise me either."

"I'm sorry. I won't."

Silence dawned between them as his father checked the kettle. Hiccup wanted to enjoy it, to empty his head for just a minute. But he couldn't control his curiosity.

"You and Astrid seem to know each other quite well though," he commented. "Glancing at and agreeing with each other all the time."

"We do," his father nodded. "We've spent quite some time with each other since you left."

"The village must've loved that gossip," Hiccup snorted. "They'll make anything out of nothing. And the other way around."

His father sat down in his big chair, next to the fire. "It was a hard time for both of us. You'd just left Berk, and we both felt that we only had the other to share that grief with. Astrid told me how she'd come to find out who you were, the stories you'd told her about what happened to you, and what the two of you had been working on since her disappearance."

"What did she say about my time away?"

"How you'd met Toothless and why you'd ended up leaving, firstly," his father elaborated, his eyes switching between the kettle and Hiccup's own. "How you got your scars. That some people helped you recover from that. She wouldn't tell me who, just that they're a tribe we don't know about, who are also friendly towards dragons. But that you couldn't stay with them."

"Yeah, I can't tell you who they are. It's not my secret to share. But I can assure you they're not dangerous. They only protect the dragons that live on their island. They've never looked beyond that." He couldn't imagine the Wingmaidens ever going to war.

"That's good to know," his father softly smiled. "After that, Astrid told me you went to Europe. That you saw a lot of places there and went as far as Constantinople, where you stayed for a while."

Hiccup swallowed. As much as he didn't want to feel shame for his job as a prostitute, he also didn't exactly feel like having that publicly known.

"Until someone you thought was your friend sold you and Toothless out," his father continued.

"I was in love with him," he clarified, hoping it would soften the blow of what he knew came next.

"Yeah," his father nodded. "Astrid did say you two were close. You know I don't have issues with that, right? That you're also -"

"Yes, Dad, I know," he quickly interjected. "I still remember the incredibly awkward talk we had when I asked you why Gobber wasn't married."

"Ah, yes, right," his father sputtered. Hiccup tried to suppress his smirk at seeing him off-guard. This was a serious conversation. "Astrid told me they wanted to use you and Toothless, that they taught you how to fight, but that you turned on them and escaped."

_Here it comes._

"And that you came back to the Archipelago after that. Because there were no more dragons in the rest of Europe, and you no longer trusted people after going through all of that. So you wanted to fight for the dragons instead." His father let out a short laugh, clearly uneasy. "She told me more about your travels and your dragons too, but I think those were the main events she always came back to."

He bit his lower lip, repositioning himself in his chair. If Astrid had told his father that Hiccup had killed Alexander out of pure spite, he would've mentioned it. But he hadn't.

And Hiccup wasn't going to fill him in on it.

"Yeah, that's the gist of it," he nodded, leaning back and crossing his legs.

"By the time Astrid had finished telling me all of that and we were starting to work through it, somehow, Astrid found out she was pregnant. Which turned our entire world upside down again." His father sat back, putting his hands on his knees. "Ever since I've been trying to do as much for her as I can. And for Hamish too. I don't want to repeat the mistakes I made with you."

"Hamish does seem fond of you," he conceded. "From what I've seen the past two days or so. Always excited to see you." And that stung him more than he would ever admit.

"So were you when you were that age…" his father solemnly remarked. "I cannot get complacent. I have to keep trying every single day. I want him to have a better childhood than you did. And if there's anything I've learnt from all this, it's that that starts with me. So I have to be the best grandfather I can be."

"Thank you," he replied, fully realising that was the first time he'd said those words since he'd come back to Berk. "On Hamish's behalf."

His father swallowed, and Hiccup swore he saw tears well up in the corners of his eyes. "It's the only thing I could begin to try to make it up to you. And now that you're here I just don't know where to begin…"

"To fix things," he added, looking away. "I know that feeling."

They briefly glanced at each other, his father's tired green eyes meeting his own. Hiccup wanted to scoff at the enormous irony of how the first thing in years they seemingly connected over was their failures. The immense, crippling mistakes they'd made. Those of his father towards him. And his own towards Astrid.

They both understood that no matter how hard you tried to fight against it, or to make it better, you carried that weight with you every single day.

His father had told him he was sorry for everything he'd done. And somehow, in this moment, he could believe it.

"Gobber said something to me last night," he started, his voice hoarse. "That perhaps I should stop thinking about settling the score. And focus on what we can do right now instead." He buried his hand in his hair, vaguely gesturing into the open space with his other. "I don't think you could ever fix what you did to me, Dad. It's too deep, it's…" He let the hand in his hair trail down to his face. "It's a scar. It will never go away. And neither will the things I did to you. They shouldn't."

He licked his lips, measuring his words in a way he'd become so unused to doing. "But maybe we can do that. Focus on right now, I mean. Because I don't want to fight. I fought for eleven years, against you, against the Red Death, against myself. And I'm exhausted. I just want to be with Astrid, and Hamish, instead of having to deal with all of this _shit_." He sighed, rubbing his eyes and suddenly feeling a lot older than he was supposed to be. Or perhaps exactly as old. He still felt a lot closer to twenty than thirty. "Cause if we were to start fighting again too, I'd have to deal with all the thoughts that brings with it. On top of the bad ones I cannot seem to get rid of even after five years away... And I don't want that. It'll do me no good."

He turned his gaze towards his father, his eyes sharp, his jaw set with newfound determination. "I'm here for Astrid and Hamish. Only them. Not for you." His father's face fell, but Hiccup didn't feel bothered by it. Not anymore. "But if you're there for them too, then..." He gestured between his father and himself. "I guess you and I are fine." He shrugged, propping his legs up on the table. "And we can stop being all awkward about this." He smirked. "Because you obviously hate feeling uncomfortable as much as I do." He cocked his head. "Guess we have stuff in common after all."

His father looked at him for a long time, his eyebrows creased, showing the wrinkles in his forehead, which in turn somehow highlighted the streaks of grey in his beard. They were only accompanied by the cracking fire, the water in the kettle surely cooking by now, and Toothless' slow breathing on the edge of the loft above them.

Hiccup pulled off one of his gloves, stretching his scarred fingers. "Take your time. I got all day. Or well, until the Hoffersons get here."

"I'm proud of you, son," his father said. "For coming back and now picking things up the way you are."

"That's not an answer to what I just said," he smiled, brushing off his surfacing unease. "I made you a proposition. You need to tell me if you accept it, or not."

"I do," his father nodded. He leaned forward in his chair and stretched out his hand. "I'll shake on it. Man to man."

Hiccup's eyes flickered down, remembering how he'd jumped back when his father had touched him on the first night he'd been back here. But he was finally back on top of the situation. In control of what would happen next for just one part of his thoroughly messed up life. He could not let that slip away because somewhere deep down, he was still a little bit fifteen, and alone and afraid.

So he sat up straight, ignored the urge to put his glove back on, and grabbed his father's right hand with his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [aleteia-ff](https://aleteia-ff.tumblr.com/)! I intend to do Six Sentence Sunday there every Sunday, which will give you all a bit of a preview of what's yet to come! 
> 
> If you want to discuss the fic with me and other people, you are also welcome to join us on the [A Thing Of Vikings Discord Server](https://discordapp.com/invite/xVuZfK2), in the channel #aleteias-fics!
> 
> The story will be updated on Saturday two weeks from now, around 6 PM Central European (Summer) Time! ([What time is that for me?](https://www.timeanddate.com/worldclock/fixedtime.html?msg=The+Phantom+of+the+Archipelago+Update&iso=20200404T18&p1=16))


	10. Meet the Parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Thank you once again for all your lovely replies and reviews, it means the world to me that you're all still here and invested in how this story is progressing 3
> 
> To give a bit of a perspective: After this chapter, there are 2 more chapters to go in what I refer to as Act 1, which revolves around Hiccup's arrival on Berk and the set-up of what will come next. And I'm very excited to start showing that in Act 2, from Chapter 13 onwards!

**Chapter 10: Meet the Parents**

"You got a good grip," Hiccup's father commented as they let each other go, and reached for the kettle with a smile on his face.

"I had to keep myself busy while waiting for the Red Death to show up," Hiccup grinned, making himself actually comfortable in his chair. In his years away, he'd almost forgotten just how good furniture actually was. If he was going to stay in one of the arena cells, he ought to get some there. "So I started doing some of those exercises you always told me to do as a kid, you know, to lose my fish-bone posture. Push-ups and such. Anything to kill the time, really."

"Aye," his father nodded, pouring him a mug of hot water and preparing the tea. "Well, it seems like all you needed was more time, in the end. Think you're as tall as your mum by now."

"Mum was this tall?" he gaped. "Gods."

"Oh yes, a Hel of a woman," his father grinned. "Lanky, too, though. You always looked more like her in that sense. Should have seen it coming that you would shoot up and even out eventually."

"Don't underestimate the merits of a good dragon-riding work-out though." He pointed at his abdomen. "When I first started riding Toothless there were days where I could hardly climb up to my room because I was _that_ sore."

"Maybe you should teach me that after all then," his father laughed, patting his stomach. "Wouldn't be a luxury."

"Honestly though, Dad, I think that particular ship has sailed," he teased, accepting the mug his father handed him. "Besides, it would only cause confusion. If Stoick the Vast is no longer, well, you know, vast, then the whole Archipelago might as well stop making sense altogether."

"I'd have you know some actually called me Stoick the Vindictive for a while," his father pointed out as he sat back down, blowing on his own tea.

He pulled up his missing eyebrow. "Who? Berk's not exactly known for its revenge wars as far as I know. I always thought petty revenge and being caught up in the past was my thing."

"Alvin," his father answered, a little gleam in his eyes.

He shook his head, smirking. "Ah yes, the guy Berk refers to as 'the Treacherous'. Totally unbiased opinions there."

"I gave him that name," his father frowned.

"My point exactly," he smirked, taking a sip from his mug. "Although I'm still not sure whether it's a running joke, or if you two actually have a legitimate basis for despising each other."

"I do suppose the initial resentment faded with the years," his father shrugged. "But there's not much need to move beyond that. People can move freely between their island and ours, and Alvin and I don't need to coordinate much more than that."

He didn't miss how his father referred to Berk as _ours_ , but decided not to press the issue of whether he meant the people of Berk as a whole, or the Haddock lineage specifically. Because the latter was out of the question. "So you don't even speak to him? Like, at all?"

"Only on really important matters. Such as big weddings, and the Phantom's whereabouts."

"That can't have been very fruitful," he snorted. "I never interacted with Alvin."

"He didn't have much to share indeed." His father grumbled. "Still, it was better than Dagur's comments, who sent an update at least once a month to inform both me and Alvin that the Phantom still hadn't dared to attack him. Even though I consistently wrote back to him that that was only logical, as the Berserkers didn't get any raids either."

"I don't have a clue why they didn't, but it was probably a good thing," he hummed. "Dagur's a particular flavour of downright infuriating, and I don't think I could've handled dealing with that on a regular basis." He smiled wryly. "As I demonstrated at Snotlout's wedding."

"He is quite something, I can agree with you on that. Although with all the conquering he's been doing in his region of the Archipelago, I'm glad our peace treaty still stands."

"Which might change if I stick around," he huffed.

"You're not a threat to Dagur," his father told him with certainty. Hiccup sat up straighter and quirked his eyebrow. Shock briefly crossed his father's face. "You don't plan to be, is what I meant," the Chief of Berk quickly corrected himself.

"He doesn't really know that, now does he?"

"But he knows that it's not in his interest to go to war with Berk. It's very different from pillaging small, neighbouring islands." His father gave him a wise, knowing look. "As deranged as he may be, he's not actually stupid."

"I hope not. Gods, the Archipelago is just one big mess, if you think about it. Because I've been to Europe, right, and -"

He paused, recognising himself starting out on one of his character-defining rambles, but when he looked up, he caught his father looking at him with something resembling interest. As if Hiccup was an adult, who might actually know a thing or two about the world, instead of the little clumsy child his father had always made him out to be.

So he continued.

"And it's not the same over there. You have these empires, the stories about them, and all the countries that remain to this day with their convoluted structures of nobility. It's a mess, too, albeit in an entirely different way. And here we are, in the Archipelago, made up of nothing but tiny and small islands by comparison, each with its own tribe and Chief. Some of which do answer to people like Dagur, but still. It's much simpler."

"I'd argue it's better," his father weighed in. "We Vikings generally like to keep to ourselves, after all."

"It makes you wonder what would be possible though, doesn't it?" He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. "Say you 'de-Outcasted' Alvin, formed an actual alliance with him, and had two of the Archipelago's largest islands working together. Not for conquest, but simply for cooperation."

His father looked at him for a long moment. "Now that's the kind of talking that might actually scare Dagur. Especially coming from you."

"Then I suppose it's good for him that it's just a thought experiment," he smirked. "And that it would never happen. It's not in the Viking nature, after all."

"I never took you for being particularly politically engaged," his father commented.

"I'm not." He shrugged. "But, you know, when you spend a lot of time on a quest for power over those people who used to make you feel powerless, you inadvertently end up reflecting on it all. And that's exactly why I should never get close to any actual politics. Let alone the throne of Berk." His gaze turned sharper as he realised they hadn't touched that subject yet. "I'm not here for that, same way I'm not here for you. I don't want anything to do with it. Just so we're clear."

"I know, Hiccup," his father nodded. "I do."

He leaned back, the conversation dying out as a result of his sharp tongue. Which was good. He wasn't here to get comfortable, after all.

They drank the remainder of their tea in relative silence, some of the tension in his head finally easing. When he quickly checked in with Toothless, calling up to him to ask if he was doing okay, he simply got a relaxed warble in response. Despite his best efforts, it was almost unsettlingly peaceful.

Luckily, their tranquillity was interrupted by a series of knocks on the door not much later.

"Stoick? Can I come in?" Astrid called from the other side.

Astrid pushed open the door as Hiccup's father called her in, a smile reaching her face as she saw the two of them sitting relatively close together. Behind her, her parents entered. Looking considerably less amused.

The best word to describe the Hofferson family, in general, was intimidating - and Hiccup prided himself in not being quickly intimidated by anyone these days. Yet somehow, Sigrid Hofferson always managed to further strengthen the Hofferson claim to fame whenever she entered a room. She was not much taller than Astrid, but stronger than a reasonable number of men her age. The blond hair Astrid had inherited, now imbued with streaks of grey, was braided into a bun, adorned by the horned helmet that was a permanent presence on the top of her head, just like the axe on her back.

Astrid's father, Arne, didn't necessarily look more threatening than the average Viking with his brown hair and matching beard, and had always been known as the more silent type. But thanks to his efforts during the raids, Hiccup had first-hand experience with how powerful Arne's axe swings were when aimed at his enemies. And judging by the fact he'd also brought his axe with him, and the way Sigrid's piercing blue eyes scanned the room, her face distorting into a scowl when they landed on him, he was definitely on that list of enemies.

"Hi," he started, as Arne closed the door behind him, not sure if he should get up or not.

"Well, well, well," Sigrid responded, crossing her arms. "Look who finally decided to show his face. Hiccup Haddock."

"Mom -" Astrid cut in, but her mother waved her off.

"In my defence," Hiccup quipped as Sigrid approached him. "My face is not the prettiest to look at."

Behind her parents, Astrid groaned. "Oh my Gods."

"But, that's not why I'm here, nor why I want to talk to you. My face, that is," he recovered, standing up so he could look Sigrid in the eye, which also prevented her from getting closer. Because she was a warrior, and well-aware that if she took another step, she'd end up with him looking down at her. And it was in her best interest not to let him get that edge. "I'm here to apologise for what I did to Berk, and to you. For abandoning Astrid and not living up to my duties as a father to look after her and Hamish. And to thank you for doing so in my stead."

"Now that would be easy, wouldn't it?" Sigrid bit. "If we would just forgive you for what you did and forget about everything."

"I don't expect you to forgive me," he simply said, because he wasn't _this_ easy to rile up. "But that doesn't mean I can't apologise for the things I've done."

Sigrid shook her head at him. "As if you even know what you've done."

"Mom, knock it off," Astrid hissed. "We talked about this, he's here to fix it, so you don't need to chew him out like that."

"I don't?" Sigrid pulled up an eyebrow. "I don't get to tell him what I think of the way he kidnapped you -?"

"I didn't kidnap Astrid," he snapped. "She went with me voluntarily."

"Because you left her feeling like she didn't have another choice," Arne weighed in, his deep voice eerily calm. "We know the story well enough by now."

"That's not how it went," he argued, clenching his jaw. "I always let her choose, I didn't force her into any of this."

He glanced at Astrid, who was glaring daggers at her parents. "He's right, I made the decision to go with him, and I told you that, so stop pretending you know it better than we did."

"Did you really let her choose though, Hiccup?" Sigrid pushed on, ignoring her daughter. "Did you give her a say in everything you did to her? In how you made it seem like you were raping her? And when she confronted you with that, you left her here to _rot_ , pregnant with your child, nonetheless!"

"That's not the way a proper man does things, Hiccup," Arne added. "They treat their women with respect."

"I do respect her," he countered. "That's why I'm here to make up for my mistakes."

Arne scowled. "You call the way you treated Astrid _respectful_?"

"Hardly." He ground his teeth. "Which, again, is why I'm going to do better now. To show her I do respect her after all."

"But you clearly have never had any for us," Sigrid spat.

"I do -"

"You can't even imagine what it's like," Sigrid continued, approaching him after all, looking as if she was as eager to reach for her axe as he was to grab his sword. But he had to be better than that. "What it's like for your child to be taken away from you, out of the blue, with absolutely no idea where they've gone. To search the entire Archipelago for her, only for her to come back pregnant, out of wedlock, with no sign of the bastard who did it to her." She fixed her eyes on him, her chin held up high. "But of course you have no idea how that might feel. You don't know what it's like to have children. Let alone that you'd possibly have a clue of how to raise them." She looked him up and down, wrinkling her nose. "That much is perfectly clear, at least."

"So what are _you_ going to do?" he challenged her, taking a step closer and straightening his shoulders so he was looming over her. "Are you going to keep me from seeing my son?"

Astrid walked forward, stepping between the two of them. "Oh my Gods, Mom, Hiccup, stop it, both of you."

But Sigrid didn't back down. "As far as I'm concerned, he's hardly yours. He may look like you, but he's a Hofferson by name. Because _you_ weren't there to do your duty as a father, and properly initiate him into your family."

" _I didn't know he existed_ ," he hissed. "And I already said I'm sorry for that, most of all to Astrid. Want me to turn back time? Guess what, I can't."

Sigrid scoffed. "And here I thought the Phantom's one and only goal was to become all-powerful. But it seems like you failed at that too."

He couldn't let her taunt him like that and get away with it. Because he could easily overpower her if he wanted to. Remind her of all the times he'd tricked and sabotaged her during the raids. Of how he could still wield that same power now, control her because he'd seen that she, too, could be afraid. It didn't even matter anymore that she was Astrid's mother. As far as he was concerned, she was just another one of them. Vikings. Filthy, despicable, dragon-murdering beasts who deserved to -

He was halfway through reaching for Inferno, and could hear Toothless unfurl his wings, when his thoughts, the dark red haze in front of his eyes, and the piercing pain in his head were interrupted by the Chief of Berk's voice.

"This is getting us nowhere," his father spoke up, loud and clear. "You two are arguing in circles, which isn't helping anyone."

He turned to look at his father, wondering in the back of his head for a moment how he could have had the guts to interrupt them.

But then Astrid cut in. "Indeed. I have had this discussion with you -" She gestured towards her parents. "Countless times. You have to start accepting that I'm not flawless and that I made a lot of decisions myself. Some pretty terrible ones too. Not everything is Hiccup's fault. He apologised and claims he wants to make up for his mistakes. And I believe him. That's what matters. And whether he's actually redeemed himself, that's up to me to decide as well."

Astrid turned towards him, and in her alarmed yet determined expression, he found a piece of calm he so sorely needed. "And you need to take it down a notch because while you were away, my parents did everything you didn't. They helped me take care of Hamish and I absolutely could not have done it without them. And you owe them some Godsdamned respect for that."

For a moment, he considered arguing back on how they weren't exactly treating him with respect either. But then he remembered Gobber's words. And as much as he usually questioned other people's advice, this seemed like the right time to be the bigger man, instead of retaliating.

He slowly turned his gaze towards Arne, rubbing his temples to ease his aching head and steadying himself. Because he could do that now. He had to show Astrid he could. That was more important than whatever fight her parents wanted to pick. "Astrid's right," he nodded. "Thank you." He let his eyes wander down to Sigrid's. "Both."

In Sigrid's eyes, he could see the all-too-familiar expression of someone who wished to push on against their own logic. Which could be utterly convincing.

But eventually, she took a deep breath and deflated, pinching the bridge of her nose before she looked back at him. He took a step back, giving her some space and trying his best not to smirk. Because he knew he'd won.

"Fine," Sigrid told him. "If Astrid wants to give you a shot, then you can have it. But don't expect us to go easy on you just because you're the Chief's son."

"That means nothing to me," he reassured her. "I'm not here for the Chiefdom. I'm about the worst person you could pick for the job."

"At least we can agree on that," Sigrid nodded.

"But then why is Hiccup still heir to begin with?" Arne asked.

The room went completely silent for the few moments it took for Hiccup to process that question, turn his head, and look at his father. " _I'm still heir_?"

"Hiccup -" Astrid tried.

"Yes," his father simply answered.

"And you didn't think to mention that, oh, you know, when we were talking about politics _just now_!?" he hissed, his fury returning with full force.

"I didn't want to put any more stress on you, Hiccup, and -"

He walked up to his father, pointing at him. "Stop treating me like a _child_! This is about _me_ , I have a right to know these things!" He buried his hand in his hair. "Why, Gods, _why_ in Thor's name am I still heir!?"

"Because I never disowned you," his father carefully said, taking a small step backwards. "And never officially appointed Spitelout or Snotlout as my successor either."

"So then what? The question of who will take over after you die is just in deadlock? For the rest of Berk to sort out if you don't make up your mind in time!?" he gasped, exasperated. "I don't get it, why would you do that!? You know I don't want it, and you don't have any other male heirs except for -" He paused, the situation suddenly clear to him. " _Hamish_."

He laughed to himself, shaking his head. "Of course you want me to stay. You want me to recognise him as my son so he becomes a Haddock and second-in-line, officially. And first-in-line practically speaking, because I will never, not under any condition, accept the Chiefdom, and you know that." He hit himself in the head. "Gods, it's so _obvious_ , how didn't I see that before? I never took you for a schemer, _Dad_ , but I guess we've all made a few changes around here while I was away."

"It's not about that, Hiccup," Astrid told him, loosely grabbing his elbow so he was forced to tear his eyes away from his father and look at her instead. "If it had been, we -" _We,_ Gods, he hated the thought of his father and Astrid being a team, in anything. "- would have had Stoick adopt Hamish directly and raise him as heir. But Hamish doesn't know anything about that mess. Sure, he understands that his grandpa is the Chief, but he has no idea what that means for him."

"But the rest of Berk has to, right? Spitelout can't be so stupid that he doesn't see Hamish as a threat to the Jorgenson claim," he argued. "Who's to say he won't act on that? Gods, Astrid, why did you even stay on Berk to begin with?"

"Because as little as we too think of Spitelout Jorgenson, he's not a child murderer," Sigrid cut in.

"Spitelout doesn't like Hamish one bit, that doesn't come as a surprise to anyone," Astrid clarified. "But Snotlout, Ruffnut and I made it very clear that both Hamish and Solveig shouldn't be involved in the discussion we're still having. And the three of us are on good terms, also because they've always kept themselves to that. Hamish is not, and never has been, in any danger. It's an adult topic."

"It shouldn't even be a topic to begin with," he bit.

"Then what would you have me do instead, Hiccup?" his father asked. "If I abdicate now and give the Chiefdom to the Jorgensons, it's out of our family for good. I know that for you, that seems like a good thing. But they would make it significantly harder for you to come back here and reconnect with Astrid and Hamish. Let alone bring any of your dragons with you."

"But then what's your long-term plan? Because one day, Hamish _is_ going to be old enough," he countered.

"I always wanted to stay on until you returned," his father admitted. "So I could be here to help you, if you wanted to come back here to be with Astrid and Hamish. Because that's already difficult enough, you didn't need a Chief here who would actively work against you." He sighed. "Beyond that, it all depends on how the situation turns out."

"But Hamish becoming Chief is still an option, to you?" he pressed on.

"If I am lucky enough to live so long that I can see Hamish grow old enough enough to make that decision for himself, then, yes," his father told him, looking him straight in the eye. "I'd rather stay on until my death than retire early and let the Chiefdom go to the Jorgensons."

He rolled his eyes. "And of course, a teenager won't feel any pressure to agree to continue his family's line. Especially after his own father gave up on it. How could you possibly expect him to say no to that? At that point, it's not even a choice!" He balled his fists, because he'd thought his father understood, but clearly he'd been a naive idiot. "I _know_ what that's like, to have the expectations of the whole village on your shoulders! To feel, all the time, like you have to be good enough for them, but that you can't ever be the person they want you to be!" He clenched his eyes shut, looking away. "Especially when they remind you of that every. Single. Day."

"Hiccup…" his father tentatively said, the tone of his voice tricking him into looking up. "I'm so sorry."

"Why am I even here?" he wondered out loud, looking up and into Toothless' watchful eyes, asking his best friend what their quickest escape route would be, the front door or the roof. "Why did I think any of this would work, if _you_ don't even get it?" He let his shoulders fall, then set them again in a mixture of regret and _spite_. "Then again, you never got it. Never got _me_."

"But you do," Astrid spoke up. Somehow, he'd almost forgotten she was here, her parents still looking ready to axe him down if he made any sudden movements. "You get it," Astrid continued, carefully approaching him, as if she couldn't predict his next move either.

He didn't want her to have to be like that. _She_ was the reason he was here, after all.

He reached out to her, but stopped himself and bowed down his head as he was overcome by shame for forgetting that. Because of his father. "I'm sorry," he simply said instead, gathering some of his courage to look back up at her. "I'm here for you," he repeated.

"Then stay," Astrid softly told him. "And be there for Hamish when the question comes up, if it ever does. To tell him why you think he shouldn't do it."

"But what until then?" He gestured at his father, but kept his eyes fixated on the woman he loved. "What if he passes away before Hamish is old enough?"

"We'll deal with that when we get there," Astrid reassured him. "Because Stoick's right, he can't possibly retire now, if you want to get a chance to enact your plan without the Chief actively working against you. So let's focus on that now."

"That's not a solution though, Astrid, and you know that," he insisted.

"You can't always solve everything right away, Hiccup," Astrid sternly retorted, her eyes piercing his. "Sometimes, you have to see how things work out. Let it go. You can't control everything. You have to get used to that, especially on Berk. Take it from me, I've spent the last five years trying _really_ hard to do the same when it comes to _you_."

"I know," he sighed, rubbing his eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. "It's just difficult. And a lot."

"You'll get there."

Astrid signed her words with a gentle smile that melted his heart and made him feel, right then, like he'd conquer the entire world for her. Or give it up, if she desired that of him instead.

"You're too good to him, Astrid," Sigrid commented, interrupting the moment. "Better than he deserves."

"I agree," he scoffed, retrieving the confidence and clarity he'd lost for longer than he should have. "But life's so rarely about what people deserve, right? If it were, Astrid would have never fallen in love with me to begin with. I don't deserve her kindness, just like I've never deserved her. I don't know if I ever will." He looked at Sigrid, making sure she could see in his eyes that he was speaking the truth. "But I am going to give it my all to get as close to that as possible." He let his gaze trail off towards Astrid's father. "And when I've achieved that, and if I am so lucky that Astrid chooses to be with me again, I will come back to you to make you an appropriate offer for her hand in marriage."

"That'd be the minimal level of courtesy we'd expect," Sigrid scoffed.

Astrid put up both of her hands. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, okay?"

"Then what do you expect of us now, Astrid?" Arne asked her.

"I'd like you to babysit Hamish tonight, so Hiccup can announce his return to the village with both me and Stoick there, and explain the rest of his plans."

Sigrid pulled up an eyebrow. "What were those exactly?"

"Maybe you should have let me explain that before you picked a fight with me," Hiccup muttered.

"You need a filter, boy," Arne warned him. "You can't just say everything that pops up in your head."

_So does your wife_ , he thought, but immediately took Arne's advice to heart by swallowing that comment. "I'm going to stay in the arena and teach those who are interested how they can peacefully deal with dragons. So that if they do come back to Berk, I don't always have to be around to make sure Vikings don't hurt them. Or the other way around. Although I'll also put effort into making sure they don't get a chance to cause trouble to begin with."

"Hiccup will stay away from Hamish until I tell him otherwise," Astrid added, turning to her parents. "Toothless and Stormfly won't come near, and I'm going to ask you, Tuffnut, and anyone else who might be alone with Hamish to keep it a secret from him too. And he should never go unsupervised. I don't want him to know his father is back until I know for sure that Hiccup won't leave again. But we already talked about that last night, so I'm assuming you're still okay with that?"

"Of course," Arne nodded.

"We'd rather be safe than sorry, after all," Sigrid chimed in, seeming all too happy with Hiccup being out of Hamish's life. For the time being.

For a moment, they all simply looked at each other, the room suddenly so quiet that Hiccup saw Toothless shift from the corner of his eye. Hiccup caught the dragon's eyes and nodded at him, telling him they were still fine. But there was no doubt in his mind that Toothless would still be ready to pounce on anyone he thought to pose the kind of threat Hiccup couldn't handle himself.

"Then I think we're done here," his father tentatively concluded, suddenly returning as the Chief of Berk instead of the target of Hiccup's anger. "Unless there's you have anything else you'd like to discuss?"

Astrid shook her head. "I don't."

"Neither do I," Hiccup decided. He didn't feel like spending any more time here. Somehow, the house had grown a lot smaller since he'd first come in.

"Then we'll take our leave." Sigrid looked at Astrid. "Are you coming with us, Astrid, or?"

"No, I think I'll stick around for a while longer," Astrid answered, glancing at Hiccup with clear worry. The way Hiccup imagined she might look at Hamish after he'd misbehaved. As imagining it was all he could do. "But after I pick up Hamish from Tuff's we could stop by for dinner, and then I'll leave him with you afterwards, if that's alright?"

"I'm making stew, so we can always use the extra diners," Arne told her.

"That'd be great," Astrid smiled, in that casual, domestic way that seemed so natural for her, yet was so thoroughly unfamiliar to Hiccup.

"Then that's settled," Sigrid nodded, heading for the door. "Thank you, Chief."

Arne walked after her, giving the Chief a curt nod. "Chief."

"And Hiccup?" Sigrid addressed him, her gaze sharp. "We'll be watching you."

He smiled back at her, not falling for the taunt.

"For all of our sakes, I hope you do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [aleteia-ff](https://aleteia-ff.tumblr.com/)! I intend to do Six Sentence Sunday there every Sunday, which will give you all a bit of a preview of what's yet to come! 
> 
> If you want to discuss the fic with me and other people, you are also welcome to join us on the [A Thing Of Vikings Discord Server](https://discordapp.com/invite/xVuZfK2), in the channel #aleteias-fics!
> 
> The story will be updated on Saturday two weeks from now, around 6 PM Central European (Summer) Time! ([What time is that for me?](https://www.timeanddate.com/worldclock/fixedtime.html?msg=The+Phantom+of+the+Archipelago+Update&iso=20200404T18&p1=16))


	11. Grey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I have other obligations at my usual update time, so hence this chapter is arriving at another moment than you're used to from me. I hope you enjoy!

"Well," Hiccup sighed when the Hoffersons closed the door behind them. "That went _great_."

"I'm so sorry, Hiccup," his father muttered. "I should have told you about the Chieftain situation."

"Or me," Astrid sighed. "It's just, Gods, I'd expected all of this to go a lot slower, but I should have known that with you, things never go as we expect them to."

"I just think it's incredibly stupid, still," he commented. "Not to start preparing Snotlout for the Chiefdom, that is. They're going to think I'm a threat to the throne, no matter how violently I deny it."

"Spitelout would have stirred up trouble anyways," Astrid grumbled. "That's just the kind of person he is."

"And you're okay with this?" he asked her. "That, if my dad gets his way, Hamish would be the next Chief of Berk?"

"Hiccup, that's not what I -" his father started.

"Yes," Astrid interrupted him. "I am."

He looked at her, his mouth falling open. "Are you out of your mind!? Why would you do that to him, why would you -"

"Don't you dare finish that, Hiccup," Astrid bit, her eyes suddenly sparking. "I want what's best for Hamish. I've always wanted that, from the moment he was born."

He shrank. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that, it's just -"

"That you've spent a long time assuming people's explanations, instead of waiting for them to give it to you. Or simply asking. I know, Hiccup," Astrid sighed.

"Then will you tell me why you're okay with it?" He added a soft smile. "Please?"

Astrid wistfully shook her head at him. "I'd be okay with it if it's what Hamish wants as well. If he makes the decision himself, when he's old enough, and manages to convince me that he's absolutely sure of it. Years down the line. Until he's old and experienced enough to form his own opinions."

"I want to be there. When he forms his own opinions," he instinctively responded.

The corners of Astrid's mouth turned upwards. "And I know you in particular wouldn't ever let him pursue the Chiefdom if you weren't absolutely sure it's what he wanted. So if you stay, that's one less thing for me to worry about."

"I'm staying," he reassured her. He wanted to take all her other worries away too. "I am."

"Then we better start preparing for tonight. If you're still up for it, of course. If you need another day, or longer, I get that too."

"No, I want to do it as quickly as possible." _So you'll let me back into your life_. He gently massaged his temples. "Although right now, I just feel exhausted, and like I need a very long flight. My head's hurting like a bitch."

"Not a surprise," Astrid knowingly smiled.

"Why not?" He looked back at his father. "Was it the tea?"

"That's not what I meant." Astrid rolled her eyes. "When's the last time you spoke to four other people at the same time?"

"Oh." He searched his memories, then frowned. "I have no idea. Constantinople, probably."

"My point exactly," Astrid smiled.

"And I guess you're also right about me needing a bit of preparation…" he sighed. "As far as first impressions go, I didn't leave a particularly good one on your parents just now."

"Could've been worse," Astrid shrugged. "My mom looked about ready to attack you with her axe when I went to tell them you were back and wanted to talk with them. I'm still surprised she didn't."

"They really don't like me, huh?" he scoffed.

"Let's just say it's not the first time Stoick and I have had an argument with them concerning you," Astrid clarified, pinching the bridge of her nose. "But those usually ended in 'we'll see about it when Hiccup's back'. And now you are, so..."

"What did you argue about before? About Hamish getting to meet me?"

"And everything that had to do with that," Astrid nodded. "They would've preferred it if I'd simply told Hamish you were dead."

"By Thor's hairy -"

"In the end they're also just trying to look out for him, though," his father interrupted him. "They hardly knew you, after all, and simply got this situation thrust upon them. Like Astrid said, we really couldn't have done it without them. My duties as Chief usually kept me too busy. And especially the months just before and after Hamish's birth, they were -"

"Let's just say it was rough," Astrid finished. "My parents were there every step of the way even though I'd lied to them and deceived them. I can never repay them for that. And it's always been a lot easier for them to direct their anger over the mess I got myself into at you, rather than me."

"Makes sense, I suppose," he grumbled.

"Doesn't make it right, though. I love them, but it's incredibly frustrating."

"If it's easier for you, I can take their anger," he shrugged. "Just add it to the pile."

"That's sweet, but I'd prefer a more sustainable solution. Although I suppose they'll need their time." Astrid shook her head, dusted off her skirt and looked at him expectantly. "So, to get back to the point, as much as I can understand you need a break, if you want to go through with the meeting tonight, I'd suggest you rehearse."

"I could help you," his father offered. "Write a Chief's speech, and -"

"No." He put up his hand, a chill running down his spine at the word _Chief_ alone. "Thank you."

"You can practice with me at my home, if you want to," Astrid suggested, pulling his attention away from his father's hurt expression, back to her. "I don't have any plans until tonight, and Hamish is away. I'll make you another mug of tea and we can talk through what you're going to say tonight."

She looked straight at him as she waited for his answer, her deep blue eyes drawing him in and drowning him completely. It left him speechless, his brain as useless as when he was fifteen. Because somehow, being in the same room as Astrid, even if it was just for a cup of tea, seemed like the most sensual thing he could imagine.

"Yes," he sputtered, heat creeping up to his cheeks. "I'd like that. A lot."

Astrid smiled at him, holding his gaze in a way that almost seemed flirtatious. Or it just looked like that because he'd spent way too long alone, and the thought of striding over to her, kissing her and slowly pushing her backwards until she'd hit the wooden wall behind her was increasingly taking over his brain.

But he was pulled back to reality by his father letting them know he was still in the room by coughing awkwardly. "Alright, then I better get to spreading the word. If any of you need me before that, just let me know."

"I'll head back home as well," Astrid nodded, the moment passed. "You know where I live now, right?" He nodded. "Toothless should fit through the upstairs window. So feel free to take a flight, and I'll go ahead and open the shutters."

"Sounds like a plan."

Astrid nodded at him and left as his father got up from his chair with a groan Hiccup could feel in his own bones. Hiccup himself was halfway up the stairs when a thought occurred to him that he couldn't let pass.

So he put on his helmet and raised his voice.

"Dad."

He waited until his father had turned his head, making sure he'd caught his eyes before he continued. "I want one thing to be absolutely, completely clear. So that there is no confusion between us, and I won't have to repeat myself again."

"I'm not here for the Chiefdom," he continued when his father anxiously nodded. "Just as little as I am here for you. I don't mean to rule, neither through terrorism nor because I was unlucky enough to be born a Haddock." He took a step down the stairs, standing up straight and solidifying his posture. "And if _you_ , in any way, try to force that same fate you pushed upon me onto _my son,_ then I swear I will be here to fight you every step of the way. Every single day. Until you'll be forced to admit defeat."

His father's breath hitched. "I won't let you down, Hiccup. Nor Hamish."

"And I don't make promises I don't intend to keep."

He took in his father's expression, the look in his eyes, to confirm that his father knew, and that he wouldn't forget it. Then, he jumped up on Toothless and got out of his father's house before the man could try to recover and get another word in. He took a quick, adrenaline-fuelled tour through the sky which involved more loops, dives and wingsuit flights than could be healthy for any man, but which at least somewhat cleared his head. And if it hadn't been for his longing to see Astrid, he doubted he would've come back to solid ground at all.

The shutters of her loft were already open when he returned to the village. He glided down unseen and unheard, after which Toothless crawled through the open window and contently laid down on the loft. It left Hiccup to smile down sheepishly at Astrid as he dismounted.

"Toothless better be tidy," she teased. "I'm not cleaning a dragon's mess."

"He'll be good," he smiled. "Right, bud? Keep your dirty claws off the wood, will ya?"

Toothless let out a grumble and averted his eyes. Hiccup chuckled to himself and walked down the stairs, taking in the living room. _Astrid_ 's living room. Because as foreign as that idea sounded, this was her house. And Hamish's.

It left him feeling awkward as he reached the bottom of the staircase, unsure of what to do next because he didn't belong here. When he'd been here a few nights ago the house had at least looked relatively abandoned, quiet. But now, it was clearly being lived in. Some dirty dishes, toys that hadn't been put back in their rightful place yet, a fire burning low in the hearth. And none of it was his.

"You can sit down, you know," Astrid smiled, nodding at one of the chairs at the table. "And again, take off your helmet while you're at it."

He mumbled half of an apology as he took it off, putting it on the table and sitting down on the chair directly opposite of the one he'd sat in when he'd first been here. The one which used to have a sweater hanging over it.

"I still have your sweater," he told her. "The one I let Stormfly smell to track you down. The green one."

"You can keep it," Astrid shrugged. "I have a spare and was planning to get myself a new one before this fall anyways. Style the arena with it if you want. If you still plan on staying there, that is?"

"I think so, yeah," he hummed. "If I want to help manage Berk's dragon situation and teach people something, it might be good if they can actually get in touch with me. And if I don't like that I can always go back into the mountains, or to a nearby island."

"Yeah, I think it's a good idea," Astrid agreed, moving around the house to get them some hot water. He couldn't help but smile at the sight, suddenly so much more domestic than he'd ever seen her before. And as much as he'd loved the feral side of her, which he'd seen, lived with on Phantom Island, he couldn't help but want some of this part of her too.

Perhaps because it was exactly the one thing he currently didn't have.

Shaking off that thought, he stretched. "And I also don't mind the idea of living somewhere more permanently. Get myself an actual bed. Make sure my back still works by the time I'm forty."

"Can't argue with that," Astrid chuckled. "Phantom Island was great and all, but I did not mind the comfort of living in an actual house again when I came back."

"And now you even have your own. Now that's an upgrade."

"Eh, some days I feel like it's more Hamish's house than mine." Astrid gestured at the floor, at the wooden blocks scattered around the dragon rocking horse, and then at the table, which also wasn't exactly organised, several notebooks and toys laid out on top of it. "I'm trying to teach him how to properly clean up after himself but he's often just too chaotic. Either completely focused on what's in front of him or just hopping from one thing to the next until I inevitably lose track too."

"Those are his too?" he asked, pointing at the notebooks.

"Yeah," Astrid nodded, walking over to him, and tapped one of them. "Or well, this one is yours, actually."

"My Book of Dragons," he recognised, taking it from her and flipping through its pages.

"Indeed." Astrid sat down next to him. He could almost feel her warmth, so nearby, and had to tell himself not to scoot closer and wrap an arm around her as she grabbed another one of the notebooks.

"This is Hamish's." She took his Book of Dragons from him and laid it in front of them, opened on the pages about the Night Fury. "He was always looking through it and he seemed to be so fascinated with the drawings that I figured he might like to try it himself. So I gave him a notebook last Snoggletog, which kept him busy all winter."

She went through Hamish's notebook until she finally found what she'd seemed to be looking for, and put it on the table. "He's been trying to copy your dragons lately."

Looking down, he saw a sketch of something he supposed was meant to emulate the drawings of Toothless he'd made himself. It wasn't quite there, but he could see the resemblance. And he supposed that was a lot for a four-year-old boy.

"He really does love dragons, doesn't he?" he smiled.

"He does," Astrid nodded.

"Did you ever consider not doing that? Telling him about me, and the dragons? Like your parents would've liked you to?"

"Yes," Astrid instantly answered. "I still do, some days. Wonder if I wouldn't have made it a lot easier on myself if I'd done that instead. But I can't stomach the thought of pretending you're dead while I know otherwise. Let alone claim that dragons are anything other than the good, kind-hearted creatures you've shown me they are."

"Thank you," he told her, looking at her, his voice soft. "I know I've said it before, but I'm saying it again. Because I can't begin to tell you how much that means to me."

Astrid gave him a slightly wistful smile, meeting his gaze. "I still want to support you, Hiccup, even if I'm not _with_ you right now. And so does Stoick. Because I don't know how all of this is going to go, but you can't do it alone."

"I know," he whispered, her face suddenly seeming too close. Astrid noticed it too, her eyes briefly dropping to his lips. But instead of bridging the gap, she got up and walked back to the fireplace.

"How would you like your tea?"

"Just -" He cleared his throat when he heard how hoarse he sounded. "However you take it. I'm not particularly picky."

He turned his attention back to Hamish's notebook, skimming through the pages and finding various sketches of shapes he vaguely recognised. Dragons, houses, various people, of which he could only really make out his father because he was a lot bigger than the other figures. And Gobber, drawn with a hammer for a hand.

They were childish drawings, no skill nor merit to them, purely objectively speaking. Yet they warmed him from the inside out, making him wish he'd been there when they were made. He couldn't tear his eyes away from them, because for the first time, he felt like he was getting a sense of what Hamish's world looked like through _his_ eyes. What fascinated him, inspired him, kept him locked to a notebook, pencil in hand. It gave Hiccup an image of what it might be like to actually spend time with his son. And he was shocked by how much what he found in the drawings reminded him of the things he'd loved as a kid too.

He quickly wiped his face and closed the booklet when Astrid walked over to him with a mug of tea. He put the bundle on top of his own Book of Dragons, stashing it away on the corner of the table, next to three wooden ducks he hadn't seen before, but definitely recognised.

"Did my father make these?" he pointed, smiling.

"Oh, yeah," Astrid laughed, tucking some loose strands of her hair behind her ear after she put down their mugs. "These aren't the only ones we have. Just Hamish's favourites."

"What's so special about them?" he frowned.

"It's supposed to be a duck family," Astrid shrugged. She pointed at the smallest of the ducks, painted brown, significantly tinier than the other two and cosily huddled between them. "That's Baby Duck." She tapped the bigger, yellow duck. "Mama Duck. And…" She vaguely gestured at the biggest, black duck. "Papa Duck."

"Painted black because…"

"It's supposed to be you," Astrid confirmed, biting her lower lip. "Stoick worked on them with Hamish there and it's… It's very hard to describe you, you know? I can tell Hamish that you have auburn hair and green eyes just like he does, but that's still quite hard for him to picture. It was easier for him to wrap his head around you wearing a lot of black, because that's Toothless' colour too. It's kind of what you're easy to recognise by. Apart from your scars, of course."

"Well, I do like wearing black," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the three ducks. Wondering how it was possible he was feeling intensely jealous of lifeless pieces of wood.

"You could consider changing up your wardrobe," Astrid chuckled. "If you want to fit in with Berk. But I don't really know anyone with your posture you could borrow anything from. Tuff's quite lanky but not as tall as you."

"Considering I'm still going to be working with dragons, I'd like to keep myself as fireproof as possible," he pointed out. "I never cared much for fashion anyways."

"I can see that," Astrid grinned. "Your hair looks like you chopped it off with a knife."

He rubbed the back of his head. "That's exactly what I did. It'd gotten kind of long."

"I know, it's not very hard to tell." Astrid cocked his head at him. "I can fix it for you."

"That's probably a good idea, I don't want to look like a fool tonight. Not more than I usually do, anyways."

"Alright," Astrid nodded, getting up and rummaging through one of her cabinets until she'd retrieved a pair of scissors. "Just scoot back towards the window a bit so I have better light," she gestured.

He did as she asked, skipping backwards on his chair until the light of the afternoon sun hit the side of his face. He checked whether they had any onlookers, but Astrid's house was on the outer side of town, with nothing but some of Berk's newer farms in his line of sight.

He let his head rest on the top of the chair's backrest as Astrid came to stand behind him, her fingers tentatively scooting through his locks.

She laughed softly. "You have some grey in there."

"Really?" He tilted his head further backwards as if that would somehow allow him to see the top of his own head.

"Yup," Astrid informed him. "Not a lot of it, you'd probably only see it if you looked closely." He winced as she yanked one of his hairs out and held it in front of his eyes. "And I reckon it's more of a dusty silver."

He squinted at the strain of hair she was holding up for him, its colour worryingly different from the auburn he was used to. "You're right. I guess that's it then. My youth, gone, just like that."

"I think you're fine," Astrid chuckled.

"No, Astrid, I'm telling you, this was it for me," he continued because he'd made her laugh, and it was one of the sounds he'd missed the most. "End of the line. Might as well start preparing the ship. Toothless can light it, no bows and flaming arrows required."

"Stop it, you drama queen," Astrid laughed, hitting him in the side of his skull. "I only just got you back, you're not going to die on me now. I'm not making it that easy for you. Besides, I'll let you in on a secret." He could feel her lean in closer as he rubbed the sore spot on his head. "I have them too. Been having them for years."

"Oh my Gods, Astrid, what a scandal!" he mock-gasped. "I don't know how you can bear it to still go out and show your face in public."

"That's why Hamish and I made a pact," Astrid whispered conspiratorially.

He wanted to look back at her, but she grabbed his head and fixed it upright.

"Sit still," she chided him. "Unless you want me to cut off your ear."

"Yes, ma'am," he quipped, the sound of snapping scissors soon filling his left ear. "I just couldn't contain my curiosity, because I'd love to be clued in on this top-secret pact."

"Dork," Astrid snorted. "But alright. Every once in a while, I'll sit down on the floor, and Hamish helps me look for them and pull them out. They're like absolutely, completely white, once you see them you can't miss them."

"Wow," he nodded, wincing when Astrid pulled his head straight again. "Now that's a secret society previously unheard of."

"I blackmailed him into it, to be honest. Told him that since he's the one making me go grey, he ought to do his share."

"My dad did always say he didn't have a grey hair in his beard until he had me," he laughed. "And that was before I went all terrorist on his ass. Apparently little kids are quite the hassle."

"Tell me about it," Astrid snorted.

He sucked in a breath, her casual comment hitting a lot deeper than intended. "I wish I could."

Astrid's hand in his hair paused, her scissors stilling. "So do I," she whispered.

" _Five years_ ," he breathed, the inside of his nose stinging as he could feel tears well up in his eyes. "It's been almost five years since I saw you."

"Yeah," Astrid hummed.

"And I have no idea what they were like for you. Raising a baby, here on Berk, with my dad, your parents… I try to imagine it and my mind just goes blank."

"It's hard to explain," Astrid sighed, slowly resuming her work. "Not really something I can quickly catch you up on. I'm not as good of a storyteller as you. And looking back at it now, while the days themselves could sometimes feel really long, in hindsight it all went by rather quickly."

"I can relate to that, at least."

"Maybe you can start by telling me your side, then?" Astrid proposed.

"It's not very interesting," he objected.

"But I still want to know. It's important to me. I don't want to be left in the dark anymore when it concerns you."

"That's fair," he conceded. He settled more comfortably in his chair and cleared his throat. "After I left Berk, I went straight to the Red Death's Island, throwing myself into that with no plan whatsoever, because I was so pissed at myself for what I'd done. I cried. Bawled my eyes out for the first time in years because I was finally starting to somewhat comprehend how badly I'd messed up. And how fucked up I really was." He shivered. "It took me a month to recollect my thoughts to the point that I was able to go back to Phantom Island and send you your belongings, along with my letter. I rewrote that thing so many times and I still wasn't happy with the end result, but I also didn't want to keep you in the dark any longer."

"It was a beautiful letter," Astrid reassured him. "I still have it, and it broke my heart, but… I needed it."

"I'm glad." He sighed. "After that, it was just the Red Death, me and Toothless, and the other dragons. Doing exactly what we'd talked about and what you'd correctly deduced would take an incredibly long time. Wait for her to show herself, get a hit in, wait again. Keep the other dragons from getting food to her in the meantime. And repeat that same pattern day after day, with seemingly no end in sight. Again, and again, and again. Days meant nothing to a dragon that old, after all. She could wait. And I simply had to join her."

"Sounds terribly boring," Astrid agreed.

"Yeah… The most challenging aspect of it all was that dragons don't deal well with being around an Alpha for so long. It messes with their head, slowly drawing them back in to the point that they'd get rebellious against me, or simply became confused. So I always had to keep an eye on them, coerce them to go to another nearby island for a while if necessary. That's what took up most of the time I didn't spend watching the Red Death."

"How did you do it with Toothless then? Did you leave him somewhere else for a bit too, or is he immune?"

He resisted the urge to shake his head when he felt Astrid's scissors nearly graze his skull. "I wish he was, but no, although he did seem to be able to handle it better. But I know him well enough to be able to calm him down and snap him out of it when it gets too much for him. Couple of pets and scratches in the right places works wonders. And our yearly outing to the Rookery gave him some time to recover as well. Which reminds me…" He moved to sit up straighter, then paused. "Permission to move?"

"Sure," Astrid said as she drew back her hands. "What's up?"

He messed around with his armour a bit, pulling out his notebook and flipping through it. "While I was there last winter I remembered that I never actually showed you the place. I'd still like to take you sometime, but…" He stretched out his arm above his head, handing the sketchbook to her. "I hope these will do, for now."

He tilted his head backwards to look at Astrid as she took it from him, her observant blue eyes scanning the pages, which he'd filled with drawings of the Rookery. "It's a lot more colourful in reality, but I only had charcoal," he clarified.

"They're beautiful," Astrid smiled, flipping through. "All those tiny pools, the dragons, the beach, it's… wow. I didn't know an island like that existed around here."

"My guess is it's probably volcanic," he explained. "Not in the same way the Red Death's Island is, or Phantom Island was. But it's got the same kind of heat. It's really weird, but fascinating."

"Absolutely."

"Not much use in going there now though, since it's empty except for the rare dragon with an unusual breeding pattern. It would be better to go there in winter."

"I'd like that," Astrid muttered, getting back to his hair.

"And I'll still be here by that time," he assured her.

"I'm counting on it."

"I thought about it many times, you know," he murmured. "To come back earlier. To see how you were doing. But I always told myself that I wasn't worthy of it, and that I should let you live your life without me bothering you. That I had to follow through on the one thing I'd promised you I would do while I was away. To kill the Red Death."

"And you did."

"But wouldn't it have been better if I had come back? Then I would've known about Hamish, and I could've helped you."

"And the raids would have come back, and you would've had to do something about that again," Astrid instantly added as if she'd had this conversation countless times before. Maybe she had. "Then the Phantom could've come back too. And that's the last thing I want." She paused for a moment. "Which is why, after the first winter, I stopped looking for you too."

"You never would've found me anyways," he tried to shrug.

"I don't really deal with 'never' if I really want something. You know that," Astrid told him, wistfulness sounding through in her voice. "But I realised it wasn't my job to find you. That you would come back as soon as you could. And that it was up to me to take care of Hamish, while you dealt with your villains. Both the Red Death, and your own."

"You never doubted I'd come back?" he dared to ask.

"From time to time," Astrid softly admitted. "It wasn't always easy. But I made the decision to have faith in you caring enough about me to at least come see me one last time. You'd made me a promise, after all."

"I broke a lot of my promises to you," he pointed out.

"I know, Hiccup," Astrid sighed, her fingers softly combing through his hair. "I have to live with that every day."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"I know, Hiccup," Astrid repeated. "You don't have to keep telling me that."

"It feels wrong not to."

"Which is why I'm telling you you can stop," Astrid tried to shush him.

"Why aren't you more angry with me?" he asked regardless.

"What do you mean?"

"Out of all the things I'd expected you to do, screaming at me and beating me up was at the top of the list. Yet you hardly seem like you're mad, and it just doesn't make sense to me."

"It's been five years, Hiccup," Astrid sighed, her hands resting on his head as if she didn't want to let go of him for a moment. "That's a long time to stay angry with someone. Especially when you can't do anything with that anger."

"Except let it turn into bitter hate and resentment…" he murmured.

"I'm not you, Hiccup."

"Which is one of the many reasons I love you."

"But I don't know the answer either," Astrid sighed instead of returning his affection. "I'm not going to stand here and say I'm happy with every single thing you've done so far. It'll take me a lot more effort to get my parents to see there's more to you than the anger management problems they saw just now -"

"Ouch."

"- and of course I wish you wouldn't snap at your dad as soon as you simply think he might say something you're not going to like, but I'm also just…" She stayed silent for a moment, but then he felt her press her forehead to the crown of his head, her warm breath tickling his neck and giving him the best kind of goosebumps. "Really happy you're here at all. Because I spent such a long time preparing myself for the day I would be forced to accept you'd abandoned me for good."

"I'd never have done that."

"You could've died."

"I seem to have a lot of trouble with that, given the large number of times I got close, but didn't succeed," he tried to joke, but his voice came out a lot less steady than he'd intended.

"I trust you'll keep it that way."

"Only if you do the same."

"I promise you I will."

Which was as close as a return of his 'I love you' as he could wish for.

They settled into what he would call a comfortable silence, Astrid lifting her head back up and resuming her work on his hair. He felt she was taking longer than she strictly needed to, her hands weaving through it in a way he could only call affectionate. But he wasn't dumb enough to speak up about it, considering how wonderful it was to feel her touch him in a way that made him believe that she still cared. It warmed his heart, making his fingers twitch as he desperately wished to touch her too, to hold and kiss her like she was still his.

But she'd asked him to keep his distance. Because she'd said she'd lose herself the moment she'd kissed him. Because in her heart, she still wanted him. And those words should be enough for now. Even though it was incredibly difficult not to want impossibly more. Everything, when it came to her.

He shivered when Astrid trailed two of her fingers from the crown of his head down to the nape of his neck, taking a lock of hair in each of her hands. She made an approving sound, then started twisting a braid into the side of his hair.

"Still into mini-braids, huh?" he joked, a blush creeping up to his cheeks when he heard just how hoarse he sounded.

"It's more of a habit, really," Astrid huffed. "Hamish has a few of them. He loves helping me braid my own hair and insists on getting a few for himself too. And since you two have the same hair, I…" He heard her tie a band around it. "Just figured it'd look good on you too." She paused for a moment. "But I can take it back out if you don't like it -"

As soon as he felt her hand settle back on his hair, he grabbed it. "It's fine," he told her. "If Hamish likes them, of course I'll keep it too. Even if it's just to feel a little bit closer to him."

When Astrid didn't react, he dared to softly run his thumb over the back of her hand, marvelling at how such a small touch could already make him feel so good, his heart cramping up with the kind of emotions he hadn't experienced in years. He couldn't see Astrid's face, but he still caught her whimper and the way her breath hitched. So he let his fingers trail upwards, following the curve of her wrist, and started tracing the sensitive line on the inside of it, gently skimming upwards towards her elbow.

"Hiccup," Astrid breathed, so quietly he almost couldn't hear her. She pulled away, agonisingly slowly, their fingers briefly intertwining before she retreated completely, her warmth and comfort gone. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," he whispered, unable to draw his eyes away from her as she moved around him, taking away his mug, its leftover contents now cold. The way her braid fell down her back, willing his attention towards the curve of her hips and once again making him pause at the realisation of just how Godsdamn beautiful she was.

"We should probably prepare for tonight," Astrid said, her back towards him. "Before I have to go pick up Hamish for dinner."

"You're right," he nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the table as he scooted back towards it to make sure he wouldn't get distracted again.

"Just walk me through it," Astrid gestured as she sat down on the opposite of the table. Far enough away from him for them to pretend to be strangers. "Tell me what you're planning to say as if I'm hearing it for the first time."

He reiterated his plan to her, the same way he'd told it to her this morning but with a more logical structure to it, trying not to lose track as Astrid nodded along, her lips curling up encouragingly when he said something she liked. It wasn't too difficult; it was essentially the same as telling an interesting story. And he'd spent enough of his life listening to his father hold speeches to know how those were usually done. His father had even put him through giving some himself at minor events, 'to prepare him for the real job'. And while he was no longer interested in pursuing the Chiefdom - he didn't think he ever had been, he'd just been too afraid to say no - it had at least taught him not to suffer from stage fright.

"I think it's good," Astrid nodded when he was done. "A solid story. But you won't be giving it to me, you'll be talking to Berk."

"And they probably won't be as well-willing," he completed.

"I do expect some people to act up, yes," Astrid nodded. "Spitelout or one of his goons, probably. When they do, just stay calm. You don't owe them an answer to every taunt or question. And your father will be there too, he can order them to stay quiet."

He pulled up his remaining eyebrow. "They'd listen to that?"

"Not necessarily, but I'd rather he tries than that you do it yourself."

"Because that might bring back some unpleasant memories, gotcha."

"Exactly." Astrid leaned forward slightly, prompting him to do the same. "But the most important thing I want you to remember is that they don't speak for all of Berk. I have done my very best to spread our beliefs about dragons, and while there are not a lot of people who are openly enthusiastic, they're also not as sceptical as you think. They want to believe me. And they also want to believe what I told them about you."

"Which is?"

Astrid looked at him, softness and earnest colouring her gaze. "That you're not at all like the Phantom. That underneath that persona, there's a boy who got hurt very badly, but who still managed to grow up into a man who's passionate, intelligent and inspiring. Someone they should give another shot."

"And they believe that?"

"You're still Berk's heir, Hiccup," Astrid told him. He opened his mouth, but shut it again when she continued. "And I know you don't want to be that, but that doesn't have anything to do with my point. If Berk truly, deeply hated _you_ as much as they hated the Phantom, they would have called for you to be disowned long ago. But they haven't. To this day, there hasn't been a majority for that, no matter how often Spitelout's called for it throughout the years. That's not just your dad's doing; _it means something_. It shows that they're curious about you, and that at the very least, they're willing to let you speak for yourself and plead your case at least one more time before they pass their judgement."

"I never knew you were this interested in politics," he commented, impressed.

"I'm not, but it's a necessity," Astrid shrugged. "I have to know what's going on on Berk. What people think about you, Stoick, and Hamish. And I've always cared for Berk deeply. I've always wanted to protect its people, and I still do. But I can't take the next step, neither for you, nor for Berk. So I'm asking you to have faith in them. Because I do. "

She sat up straighter, her eyes determined. "And now, it's time for you and Berk to start believing in each other."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [aleteia-ff](https://aleteia-ff.tumblr.com/)! I intend to do Six Sentence Sunday there every Sunday, which will give you all a bit of a preview of what's yet to come! 
> 
> If you want to discuss the fic with me and other people, you are also welcome to join us on the [A Thing Of Vikings Discord Server](https://discordapp.com/invite/xVuZfK2), in the channel #aleteias-fics!
> 
> The story will be updated on Saturday two weeks from now, around 6 PM Central European (Summer) Time! ([What time is that for me?](https://www.timeanddate.com/worldclock/fixedtime.html?msg=The+Phantom+of+the+Archipelago+Update&iso=20200404T18&p1=16))


	12. Towards Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Really excited to post this chapter and I hope you'll enjoy it :) There's a rather important author note regarding my update schedule at the bottom, I'd appreciate it if you took the time to read it after you've finished the chapter.

**Chapter 12: Towards Tomorrow**

The amount of time Hiccup had spent in his old bedroom over the past week was as surprising as it was concerning. There was absolutely nothing of interest in it, yet he now found himself there again, lying on his back on the wooden floor and staring at the ceiling, his hand cushioning the back of his head. Because he was too stubborn to lie down on his actual bed and give one particular person downstairs the idea that that was going to be a permanent arrangement.

Toothless on the other hand seemed to have no issue making himself at home on the neglected piece of wood that used to be his bed, purring in content as he laid his head on his paws, his stomach full with the respectively raw and cooked fish they'd shared for dinner. The dragon's content warbles were the only sounds interrupting the absolutely glorious silence, safe for his father occasionally shuffling around in his chair.

He didn't particularly feel like going downstairs and starting a conversation with the man. They'd done enough of that for the day, the "discussion" they'd had earlier still on his mind. The stalemate they'd agreed on, only for it to be immediately broken by his father's obsession with the Berkian throne.

But he'd agreed to meet his father and Astrid here before the meeting, so here he was. Waiting for Astrid, who was making sure Hamish would be far away from him tonight. From the father Hamish thought he knew.

It made him wonder whether Hamish ever came up here. If he knew that it was Hiccup's old bedroom, if he ever played here, crawling on the bed and jumping up and down on it. Or whatever it was four-year-olds entertained themselves with, because he honestly didn't have a clue. He wouldn't know what to do with Hamish if he were asked to babysit him, even for just an hour. You couldn't just take a kid that age flying, and he didn't know if he could risk swimming either. So he'd have to stay put, entertain Hamish with his toys or his stories. But he had no idea what you could talk to a kid about, what was considered appropriate and what he could accidentally end up traumatising a four-year-old with. If his appearance didn't already do that anyways.

"Sure, many Vikings have scars, but they're usually not this, well, _in your face_ , and -"

"Hiccup? Did you say something?"

His eyes flew open at his father's intrusion. It took him a second to realise the man couldn't have possibly read his mind - if he could, he'd horrifically underused that ability over the past 26 years - and that he'd been talking to himself. Again.

"No, just talking to Toothless!" he shouted back.

But as his mind drifted off again, he also remembered the sketches Astrid had shown him that afternoon. Giving him a glimpse of what Hamish's world actually looked like. Filled with the people he was attached to, vague impressions of the world around him, and a _lot_ of dragons. Which really didn't differ that much from the contents of his own sketchbook.

That thought left him with a smile on his face that persisted until Astrid knocked on the door and was called in by his father.

"Evening, Astrid. How was dinner?"

"Up to my dad's usual standards," he heard her smile. "Is Hiccup -"

"Present," he shouted, rolling to the edge of the loft and peeking over it. He gestured backwards. "And so is Toothless."

Toothless warbled happily and jumped off the bed, sticking out his snout so Astrid could see him. She smiled at him and waved, but frowned when Toothless looked away. "Are you sure you want to bring him?"

"Of course." He pushed himself to his feet and sauntered down the stairs. "Why wouldn't I?" he shrugged, pretending he didn't know what they were going to say.

"We're trying to make sure you don't come across too threatening," Astrid insisted.

"It might make people feel unsafe," his father added, his eyes briefly landing on Toothless in a way that made Hiccup pretty sure he was one of those people.

"But he makes _me_ feel safe," he argued. "That should count for something. Besides -" He shrugged. "He's the best example of how dragons aren't murderous beasts I could possibly wish for. And if people don't even want to believe Toothless isn't a threat to them, then there's no reason for me to go through with my plan to begin with." He scratched Toothless behind his ears, making him croon. "We're a package deal."

"Alright, fine, but you're both coming in on foot. No riding, let alone flying," Astrid conceded.

"Look human," he nodded, smirking. "I know, _Mom_."

"You're allowed to make those jokes once you actually start listening to me." Astrid smiled, jokingly rolling her eyes and gesturing at his face. "You keep forgetting about your helmet. Part of looking human is actually showing people your face." Her expression changed as she caught up with her own words, her eyebrows creasing into worry. "Is that okay, or?"

"No, but -" He sighed and pulled his helmet off in one go, skipping over his hesitation. "You're right."

Still, he tucked his helmet under his arm, refusing to leave it behind. He had to make sure he could protect himself. Just in case. His helmet had been the first piece of fireproof armour he'd made, and not without reason. Although he was over his scars and the insecurities they'd brought with them, he didn't need any more of them. And he just had to keep reminding himself that everyone here already knew it was him. That he could run all he wanted, but that he could never actually hide.

Astrid smiled at him, softly. "Thank you, Hiccup."

"It's nothing," he lied. He interrupted her before she could speak up, undoubtedly having caught on. "I want it to be nothing."

Astrid nodded at him, her frown relaxing slightly but not fading. "Alright." He could see he hadn't completely reassured her, and in the silence that followed he fought against the urge to hug and kiss her, hoping it would take her worries away, or at least distract her. That always used to work, five years ago.

But in the way she looked at him, it was very clear that those tricks no longer worked. Or not as easily, at the very least. And it hurt him to admit that that was probably in her best interest.

His father cleared his throat, making the two of them look in his direction to see him awkwardly rub his hands together, undoubtedly feeling like the third head on a Zippleback. Again. "Shall we get going then? Don't want to keep the people waiting for the big announcement."

After Hiccup and Astrid both agreed, his father got out of his chair, clipping his heavy Chief's cloak to his shoulders. Hiccup held the door for him and Astrid, hesitant to be the first one out, and gestured at Toothless to follow them. He chuckled as Toothless only barely managed to squeeze himself through the doorway, and then took a deep breath, steadying himself and hoping the sun would be down already.

But the Berkian summer wasn't that kind to him, the evening sun still high in the air, making him squint his eyes as soon as he stepped outside. He held up his hand against the light, also blocking out the uncertain gazes Astrid and his father threw back at him.

"Let's go."

He walked past them, assuming they'd follow him and not bothering to glance back. They fell into step next to him right away, Astrid guarding his left flank while his father took the right. And Toothless always had his back. The only thing left for him to do was to face the village head-on. Pretend he knew exactly what he was doing, and that he wasn't easily caught off-guard.

But he still found himself taken aback when he lowered his hand and looked down the hill the Chief's home was built on. To find several people in his line of sight had stopped what they were doing altogether, and were simply _staring_ at him. Standing there in crowds, gathered between the Chief's house and the Great Hall. Like they'd expected him.

They had, of course. They'd been waiting for him to crawl out of the ditch he'd buried himself in for the past eleven years. To show his face. His true one. Without taking a moment to ask themselves, or him, in particular, if he actually _wanted_ to be seen. He guessed it didn't matter to them. He'd been their terrorist, the bane of their existence, so why would they show him any sympathy? He guessed he was lucky they were simply gaping, rather than stoning him.

Instead of lingering on why he was even doing this to begin with, he focused his attention on Astrid and his father, matching the rhythm of their footsteps so he didn't feel any more out of place. He tried not to look back at Toothless, but straight ahead, his head held high, his eyes aimed in the direction of the crowd but not actually looking at them. So he didn't have to register their scrutinising gazes, the way they were seizing him up so intensely his fingers itched to put his helmet back on. He didn't know who they were. He would probably recognise them if he tried, but he preferred them to remain faceless. Yet that didn't prevent him from registering the way they pointed. At his scars, no doubt.

But he couldn't completely hand over the reins to them like that. So he did what he'd always been good at, back when he'd spent his entire day scanning the markets of Constantinople for someone who wasn't paying attention, caught off-guard, or simply too gullible for their own good. And while it had sometimes been hard to make out people in the crowd, especially when he was squeezing his way through the masses in packed squares, he'd excelled at eavesdropping.

He tried to make out what the Berkians were saying, about him and the situation, to get an idea of how they were feeling and what he might expect in the Great Hall. He'd listened in all the time as the Phantom, tuning his ears for mentions of his alias and Berk's public opinion on him. It's how he knew they'd been afraid of him, and just how much.

But right now, he couldn't separate anyone's words from the consistent, penetrating hum, the entanglement of noise he _knew_ he should be able to make sense of. He frowned, focusing harder as they walked up the stairs to the Great Hall, because he should be able to hear his own _name_ at the very least. Yet he even seemed to be utterly incompetent at that. He scolded himself, because it shouldn't be this difficult, he shouldn't be feeling this _useless_. Frantic, restless, his skin itching with uncertainty as his breath sped up.

Before he could properly refocus however, his eyes fell on the doors to the Great Hall. They were fully opened, a few wooden planks covering the hole he'd blasted into it five years ago. Swallowing once, he stepped over the threshold, that single movement creating a ripple through the crowd that'd gathered there. Slowly, everyone turned to look at him, their conversations dying out as they elbowed those who didn't have him in their direct line of sight until they twisted around too. The fire that was the news of his arrival rapidly spread to the front of the Hall, where it was finally doused as the horde of loud, obnoxious Vikings went completely quiet.

If he had even had any doubts about how unusual that was, both Astrid and his father pausing in their tracks would've taken them away. They recovered relatively quickly, making their way to the front of the room, straight through the crowd. Normally the Chief would have to elbow himself through, just like any other Viking, because he was seen as one of them rather than above them. But now the Berkians shied away from them, the mass dispersing and creating a path in the middle of the room. Because as friendly and honestly curious as Toothless looked, the proud Viking warriors couldn't help but jump backwards as the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself tried to sniff them out. Although Hiccup had always told Toothless that people were no good, he hadn't quite had enough experiences with them himself to accept that as the universal truth, and his curiosity knew no bounds.

But seeing Berk's people shift around on their feet put him a little bit more at ease, since it meant he wasn't the only one feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Because how he was currently making his way to the far end of the room, where his father's throne stood, felt more befitting for a conqueror. Or a King. But he was neither of those. He was the disgraced Chief's son at best, and everyone's most hated person in the world at worst.

He would've dreamt of this five years ago. To have all of Berk show him this much respect through their fear and apprehension as he made his way to the throne, because it would've meant he had won. He hadn't hesitated to seize the opportunity to take the same stage the last time he'd been here. He remembered it all too well. How powerful he'd felt.

The scorch marks from Toothless' blasts were still there on the far wall where his ancestors' portraits once hung, a permanent reminder of his actions. But as he caught the Berkians' expressions, defiance mixed with just a sliver of worry and dread, he knew they needed that reminder just as little as he did.

He'd been proud of himself back then, for showing all who had wronged him that he'd conquered their endless belittling, and had risen far above them. He'd thought himself fallible, for sure, and with his fair share of failures, but nowhere near as irredeemable as the monsters who'd stood before him. Whose only escape from the punishment they deserved was that he'd been too decent to actually deliver it.

But for all the countless mistakes his father had made, he had never disgraced and abused the woman he loved for the sake of his own gain and twisted sense of self-righteousness. And neither had the majority of the other Vikings, who were watching him move around as if they were wondering when he'd pounce on them. When he'd show his true personality, with his helmet back on and Inferno in his hand.

And while he despised Berk for the way they'd treated him as a kid and for many things more, he couldn't blame them for that.

He only felt like he could finally breathe again when he reached the far end of the room, his father sitting down on his throne as Hiccup sat down to the right of him. Astrid let Toothless pass to lie down behind him before taking the remaining seat to Hiccup's own right. He inhaled deeply as he repositioned himself in his chair, letting the air flow in and then out of his lungs. And when he set his eyes on the crowd in front of him, it was almost as if the people of Berk exhaled along with him.

The crowd was filled with familiar faces. Gobber was standing nearby, exchanging glances with his father that were the perfect mix of wariness and knowledge, the ultimate result of a friendship that had lasted over fifty years. Sitting at the table closest to Berk's throne were Spitelout and what Hiccup supposed should now be called his family. Snotlout, tactfully positioned between his father and a Ruffnut who looked both very pregnant and very pissed off. She was flanked by her brother, who looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable to be sitting this far up front. But it didn't surprise Hiccup one bit that Spitelout, and the other men his age who filled the rest of the table, had gone for the place closest to the spectacle. And Berk's throne.

Looking further backwards into the crowd, he found Fishlegs, apprehensively taking him in, and who he now knew to be Heather, her inquisitive green eyes peering into his own as if she was trying to carefully pull away the layers of his soul. He wondered how long it would take her to figure out you couldn't possibly do that with someone who had already been completely shattered, rearranged and then broken again. But if she was indeed Astrid's friend, and anything like her, then he doubted she'd rest until she'd tried anyways. Perhaps he ought to walk up to her and tell her not to waste her time.

His survey of the room was interrupted by his father standing up next to him, and the rumour that had restarted since Hiccup had reached the front stopped again as the people looked to their Chief. With their eyes only occasionally wandering to his hideously damaged son.

"Thank you all for being here tonight," his father spoke after the crowd looked at him expectantly for just long enough, ensuring that he had their attention. It made Hiccup silently scoff to himself. As reluctant as he was to admit his father's virtues, if there was one thing the man definitely knew, it was how to hold the people's attention during a speech. Hiccup, despite his lack of stage fright, had never been the right kind of person for that. Not under normal circumstances, at least.

The Phantom had been a different matter entirely.

"I understand that this is a very turbulent time for all of you," his father continued. "I understand that the way in which Hiccup suddenly dropped the head of the Red Death, the dragon he's been fighting for the past five years, here on Berk has been very unexpected for us all. On the one hand, it means that the raids we have not been plagued by for the past five years will not return."

Hiccup nodded to confirm his father's words as they'd agreed beforehand. But there were no cheers, not even a single clap, as Berk's people rightfully sensed there was more to come.

"On the other, I also understand that it's brought a lot of uncertainty as to what Hiccup's intentions are, given his history of fighting on the dragons' behalf. But we are here tonight to announce that the war between the Phantom and Berk, too, has officially come to an end."

The hall stayed quiet still, and Hiccup forced his most reassuring smile onto his face as his father continued.

"Of course that leaves us with the question of what will come next. What consequences this peace brings with it, and what Hiccup's plans are for the future. And while I will let him explain that into more detail…" his father lingered, a smile spreading on his face. "I am delighted to announce that my son will stay here, on Berk."

Hiccup didn't miss the few gasps in the crowd, leaving him wondering whether they'd really anticipated anything else. If they'd expected him to abandon Hamish and Astrid to their fates, as if he was incapable of caring for anyone at all.

But what weighed heavier than that accusation and probable misjudge of character, were his father's eyes on him as he turned towards Hiccup to make the next move. The only hint he got as to how to proceed was a curt nod from the Chief as Hiccup's eyes met his.

With more effort than it was supposed to take, he pushed himself off his chair and stood up next to his father. He briefly allowed himself to wonder how long it'd been since his father had stopped towering over him, his shoulder now at eye-height. He scoffed at the thought of any Berkians being crazy enough to believe that this had been his rightful place all along. Beside, and later on, his father's throne.

He turned his gaze towards the crowd with the absolute confidence that if anyone did believe that, that they were wrong. After all, he didn't even know what the right moment was to start. What to wait or to look for.

So he just did it.

"Like my father already said, thank you all for being here," he started, his voice not coming out quite as loudly as he'd hoped it would. He briefly looked down and cleared his throat, then continued. "I want to start by apologising to you all, because I owe you that much. Almost eleven years ago, I left Berk because I felt shunned, and unwanted. Because I had found Toothless' friendship, and believed it would give me a better future than the one I had here. I chose to fight on behalf of dragons, even after the worst of them all hurt me in many ways that are still visible today." He briefly gestured to his face. "And I stand by that decision. But I shouldn't have taken my hurt and resentment over what happened to me, and what was happening to dragons on Berk every single day, out on you the way I did. That's not the way I should have attempted to solve that… difference of opinion. And that's what I'm apologising for, to all of you, today."

Not far away from him, he heard someone scoff. He didn't need to look to know that it was Spitelout, or one of his goons.

"I'm not here to terrorise you," he continued, sticking to what he and Astrid had rehearsed. "Nor am I here to take back my place as the future Chief. I gave up that position the moment I left. But what I do want, is to spread the knowledge I've obtained over my years away. There will be no more raids now that the Queen is dead, but the wild dragons she held in her grasp will return to the Archipelago, I'm sure of that. I want that to go down peacefully, without anyone getting hurt, especially the dragons. There's no need to kill them. And if necessary, I will personally stand between Vikings and the merciless slaughter of the animals I love."

"So you haven't changed at all, is what you're saying," someone remarked.

Behind him, Astrid sucked in a breath as Hiccup redirected his eyes to the culprit. Spitelout.

"Did you not hear what I just said?" he said, trying to sound as calm as he could. "I'm not here to terrorise Berk. I just want to help."

"The dragons, yes," Spitelout countered. "And according to what you just said, you were also just 'helping' them before."

He saw his father move to speak up, but Hiccup cut in before he could. "Don't twist my words," he slowly said, reminding himself to relax with every word. "There's a huge difference between preventing dragon deaths and actively making all of your lives worse."

"But if you're not here to help _us_ , why would you even come back?" Spitelout pushed on. "Going off Astrid's stories, you were quite content living out your years on a deserted island. Why won't you do us all a favour and go back there?"

"Spitelout -" his father managed, but Spitelout shook his head and stood up from his stool. Next to him, Tuffnut visibly shrank, and Ruffnut stared at her father-in-law in defiance as Snotlout briefly looked away.

"We're all thinking it, Stoick," Spitelout argued, gesturing at the Hall around him. "I'm just the one who voices it. If your son's actually going to come back here, he might as well be honest with us and admit it's because of that little bastard he accidentally fathered. If it wasn't on purpose to begin with."

"So what if it's because of Hamish and Astrid?" he answered through clenched teeth, ignoring the many, many Viking eyes on him. "And of course it wasn't on purpose, I would never knowingly abandon Astrid in a situation like that, how _dare_ you even suggest that."

"Hiccup -" Astrid spoke up behind him, her warning dissolving in the rumour of the crowd as they became restless, started murmuring, filling his ears with noise and chaos.

"You haven't exactly done much to convince us of the opposite," Spitelout challenged him. Physically now, too, Hiccup could see it in his body language, this one man who he desperately needed to single out among all the noise and _confusion_. "We were doing fine without you, and so was that mongrel of yours. If you've let your father or Miss Hofferson delude you into thinking otherwise, guess again. You're just part of a plan."

"And then what is yours!?" he yelled, because his voice wouldn't be heard otherwise. He took a step forward, his fingers itching, his head throbbing as he desperately wished that everyone else would _shut the Hel up._ Somewhere in the void, his father was trying to make them, moving forward into the crowd, but to no avail.

"I'm just doing what Berk needs me to do," Spitelout confidently shot back. "And if I know one thing for sure, it's that you would be better off leaving this place, for all of our sakes. Because we don't need you, and we never have. Haven't since the moment you were born."

He'd had enough. He wasn't going to let anyone taunt, belittle or use him like he was beneath them. Not in the way he used to be. Because he no longer was, he was more powerful than any of these miscreants could even dream of being. And he'd show them that. Put them in their place, one by one, where they wouldn't dare to mess with him, where they wouldn't think of using him, where they would cower, and _fear_ , and -

Someone caught his elbow right as Inferno audibly unsheathed from its hilt, the metal clanging and ticking as it slid into place. Behind him, Toothless growled, the leathery sound of his wings unfolding rumbling through the suddenly quiet Hall. And when he looked at the crowd to figure out what had managed to finally silence them, he found them all staring, some open-mouthed. With nothing but fear in their eyes.

It didn't bother him the way it ought to. But it didn't energise him the way it had used to either. And when in that moment of hesitation, he looked down at the person who'd grabbed him, he fell into Astrid's blue eyes, which held exactly the same emotion in them.

It was enough to break his heart. And to make him remember that he had to be better. For her.

He followed her hand up his arm to Inferno, his gaze resting on the blade as he remembered one of the first things Alexander had taught him about being a thief, and a fraud. If you got caught in a mistake, the best move was to pretend you always meant to do it to begin with.

He took a deep breath and flicked his thumb, igniting the sword for the entire Hall to see. The people's eyes widened, giving him the certainty that he had their undivided attention. Which made him feel powerful enough to ignore Spitelout's arrogant smirk, and speak to the crowd without a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"This sword is only one of the many things I was able to make, able to _achieve_ because I chose to try and understand dragons, rather than fight them. It's just one of the many possibilities that were opened up to me, part of this world that before me, not a single human being had access to. I can fly. I can go where no one has gone before. I have a suit that will keep me in the air all on my own, a dagger that can paralyse a man the size of a mountain. It's made me more powerful than I could have ever dreamt of being."

He kept his gaze fixated on the crowd, making sure they believed him. Although they would be foolish not to.

"But most importantly, it's allowed me to meet the best friend I've ever had." He gestured Toothless forward, letting him relax under his touch until he was audibly purring. Until everyone could see he wasn't a threat to them, unless Hiccup wanted him to be. "And while yes, I am still prepared to do everything in my power to prevent dragons and Vikings from harming each other ever again, I am here today to do more than that. I want to offer the same experiences I had to you, to all of Berk." He pointedly glanced at Astrid, who was looking more relaxed, slowly releasing his arm and sitting back. "To my son."

"I am here to show you that there's a better way of life. That there's another way to deal with dragons than to kill them, or to capture them and lock them up. But I won't force it upon you. I tried to impose my will upon you for two years as the Phantom, and I am past that. I am no longer that person. I don't want to be."

He coaxed Inferno's blade back into his hilt before he continued, making the Hall anticipate his actual plan for just long enough to have them on the edge of their seat, until even Spitelout's men ignored the hasty looks the pile of yak dung was throwing them.

Perhaps he knew how to command a room after all. The Phantom surely did.

"So Toothless and I will take up residence in the abandoned arena, along with Astrid's Deadly Nadder, Stormfly. We will be out of the way there, and solely focus on dragon-related matters such as making sure they won't accidentally get near your fields, crops, and livestock. Doing 'dragon control', I suppose. I will not involve myself in Berk's politics, nor interact with Hamish, and Astrid will have some words to spare for anyone who even thinks of telling Hamish I'm here. And if that's not enough, then I will."

He shrugged and smiled. "I've made a lot of mistakes, and realise I am still very much on trial. With Astrid, rightfully so, and the rest of you. But as much as you are all still hesitant to conclude whether I'm actually any good, let alone if I can fit in, and if you actually want my help…" He twirled Inferno's hilt around in his hand and pointed it at the crowd. "I am also still passing my own judgement on you."

He clipped the sword back to his pant leg and put up both of his hands, which were now empty. "But I am willing to try. I am prepared to put my all into it. It will be a challenge, given that I've been away for such a long time, but that's all life's been for me anyways. This is just the latest bump in the road, and I won't rest until I am sure that there is definitive, lasting peace between dragons and Vikings." He straightened his shoulders and set his jaw. "Which means I have a challenge for you. Because I cannot be everywhere at once. I don't want to be. So I am looking to pass on what I know. And at noon, starting tomorrow, I will be available at the arena, to do exactly that."

He smirked. "Those of you who are brave enough can meet me there. And learn how to train a dragon all by themselves."

His smile widened as he saw some of the Berkians' expressions turn into utter surprise, and Spitelout's to outright astonishment at the suggestion that he would share the power he and Astrid alone had been able to wield up until now. Of course there was more to it than that, a deeper bond between human and dragon that could only be discovered through experiencing it by yourself. But he knew Vikings were easier to coerce through taunts than the prospect of lifelong friendship.

"That was all I had to say for tonight. Thank you for your attention." He forced his lips back into a more subtle smile. "Until tomorrow."

He nodded at his father, who made his way back to them and turned towards the crowd, taking back control of the meeting the way a Chief was supposed to. Nevertheless all eyes remained fixed on Hiccup, even as his father started to speak and he himself sat back down. He beckoned Toothless over and took his friend's head into his lap, focusing his attention elsewhere by scratching him in all the right places.

But every now and then, he made sure to gaze back at his onlookers. So they knew he was watching them too.

"Well, at least you got them to listen," Astrid commented next to him, quiet enough to not overpower the Chief, who was going through some more ordinary agenda items than 'our former resident terrorist is now coming back as an actual resident'.

"I almost snapped, though," he confessed as his heartbeat finally started to return back to its normal rate. "I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't grabbed me."

"I still remember the last time I tried to snap you out of something. And all the times before. It never really worked." Astrid turned to look at him, her eyes peering into his own. "Today it did."

"I wouldn't exactly call that an achievement," he scoffed.

"And it isn't," Astrid agreed, her expression a lot more stoic than her voice, which betrayed her with a slight tremble. "Because you scared me to death just now, and I'll send you to Hel myself if you do it again. But it can only get better from here. And I am counting on you to make absolutely sure that it will."

"I will," he told her. "I'm just hoping Berk will let me."

He turned his eyes back towards the crowd, most of whom had diverted their attention from him during his own moment of disinterest. But there were a few among them who were still glancing at him, not quite meeting his gaze and looking through their eyelashes instead. People like Fishlegs, Heather, the odd teenager he didn't quite know. Taking him in with what he deduced to be genuine - and perhaps morbid - interest. As if they were measuring his speech in a deeper way than simply trying to derive what his return meant for their safety.

It made him smile, more authentically than he had before. And despite Spitelout's mockery, he could feel a sliver of hope, tingling somewhere deep within his chest.

"But I have a feeling they might."

* * *

Contrary to the stories Eret had heard about snow nine months of the year and hail the other three, the weather conditions out on the Archipelago's seas had been splendid over the past week. A clear, blue sky hung above them, not a speck of white on the horizon. And while he welcomed the sun and the calm rhythm of the sea beneath the ship, taking it gently up and down, and up again, he wouldn't mind a few extra clouds. He could ask Nilas and Rana what shapes they could make out of them, and give them something to do on the long journey they'd just resumed. Whatever it took to keep their attention away from the terrible things that'd happened to them back at the fort that had been their first and only home.

Eret was often happy to hear them speaking at all, especially after Nilas' first days of resigned and shaken silence. During which there hadn't been any life in his nephew's eyes, but only the simplest, most intuitive kind of pure terror. Or on even worse occasions, nothing at all.

Rana was more resilient, awfully nonplussed in the way she tended to be, taking life one step at a time the way it was presented to her. Of course she was also only five, and Eret still didn't know if she had any clue as to what had actually happened. He wasn't an expert at this. Never had been, and had never wanted to be. Which didn't mean he wouldn't give his own life for them, nor wanted them to get the very best. But he felt like an amateur every step of the way. Whenever Rana said she missed one of her other 'Uncles', and Eret simply told her he missed them too. And every time he solemnly added that they wouldn't be seeing them again, ever, he saw Nilas wince from the corner of his eyes.

Right now, both Rana and Nilas were still focused on the rocky silhouette of Outcast Island behind them. It had been the first major island they'd encountered on their trek to the northwest, and they had been docked there for a day to have solid ground beneath their feet. Contrary to what the tribe's name would suggest, he'd found the Outcasts to be friendly and hospitable, without demanding to know who he was and where he'd come from.

But they couldn't stay. They were only a week away from his obliterated fort, which still felt too close. As if the memories could still grab him out of nowhere and drag him back to his misery. Into Drago's clutches. Or those of the Ghost who'd freed the dragons.

He'd talked to some of the merchants in the harbour, asked them what other islands would be on his route if he sailed further, and how likely it was for him to find work there. He got some information about the Isle of Berk directly to the northwest, a bountiful and fertile island inhabited by the Hairy Hooligans. The merchant had described it as peculiar, but not necessarily in a bad way, although the Berkians were wary of outsiders. He'd then rambled on about how they'd mostly been keeping to themselves over the past couple of years, which he considered reasonable, given "that they had a lot on their mind". Politically unstable, was what he'd muttered in conclusion, waving his hand as if the reason why was obvious.

Eret had chosen not to press the issue. It was enough for him to deduct that Berk wouldn't be the place of peace and quiet he wanted to give Nilas and Rana. Instead, he'd set a course further north, for the island he'd been told housed the Northern Markets. It was said to be the central gathering point of the northern part of the Barbaric Archipelago, and he could be sure to find some work there, even if only temporary. And he could orient himself on where to go next from that point onward.

It would take them a little over a week to get there. Nine more days at sea, during which he hoped to keep himself occupied with every chore imaginable. Perform maintenance on parts that didn't even need it. Just so he wouldn't have to think about what he'd left behind. After all, since he didn't know what laid ahead, there was no way to prepare himself for it either.

All he could do was keep sailing forward. Towards a better, brighter tomorrow.

Dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, the first Act of this story has officially come to an end. This Act was about dealing with the most immediate questions of Hiccup's return; how do Astrid and Stoick feel about it, and how will Hiccup react to finding out about Hamish? That's now been covered, and we are ready to move on to the next part of the story: whatever is next for Hiccup. And Eret too, of course. And I'm super excited about it.
> 
> Unfortunately, I also have a less exciting announcement to make; over the past few months, due to my thesis, I haven't gotten around to writing a lot at all. I have 1.5 chapters of buffer left at the time of publishing this chapter, which is making me feel rather stressed. What I do not want to do however is to completely stop posting and only resume when I have "enough" written again. I still want to deliver regular updates, but in order to be able to do so, and very importantly guarantee quality and consistency, I have to slow down the pace.
> 
> Therefore, instead of once every two weeks, I will only update once every four weeks. And this pains me so incredibly much, so I am really hoping that by giving myself a little bit more breathing room now, I can use that time to quickly draft more chapters and return to updating once every two weeks.
> 
> I hope you'll stay with me regardless, because receiving your support is really what makes all the effort feel worthwhile and what motivates me to keep going.
> 
> Thank you all and see you on September 19th! In the meantime, I'm really curious about your thoughts and predictions about what will happen in the second Act to both Berk and Eret. So feel free to leave me a comment, review, PM, or to visit my Tumblr at [aleteia-ff](https://aleteia-ff.tumblr.com/). You can also find me, and other people who love this story, on the [A Thing Of Vikings Discord Server](https://discordapp.com/invite/xVuZfK2), in the channel aleteias-fics!


	13. Takes One to Know One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Thank you all for your kind messages about me taking twice as long to update. I really appreciate it, and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter :)

**Chapter 13: Takes One to Know One**

Hiccup definitely, certainly, completely should have known he was going to get in trouble for this. There really hadn't been any other way this would turn out, but desperation was a clear motivator. And whenever he sat down to reevaluate his life, he always ended up at the conclusion that he was a massive idiot.

But the man's wallet had been _right there_ , and judging by his posture, he could definitely do with a little less feeding. And Hiccup could put his money to much, _much_ better use.

So he rounded another corner, cursing as his feet started to ache, his mediocre shoes giving out under the pressure of his many ill-informed decisions. Which he would've been fine with, or even would have said he deserved, if it hadn't been for the unfortunate fact that he stumbled and almost fell flat on his face when a woman and her child suddenly crossed his path. Which gave the men behind him the chance to catch up.

While the man himself had looked utterly slow, his friends clearly didn't follow the same lifestyle, which was naturally just Hiccup's luck.

He didn't look down when they called out to him with a string of very colourful curses. Half of them weren't even in his vocabulary, and given the creativity that was clear in them regardless, he really ought to change that. But instead he pulled his hood down further and kept moving, zigzagging through the streets as well as he could, ignoring the persistent sting in his abdomen and the rather important question of how much longer he could last on an empty stomach.

He treated a group of young children to an equally varied stream of Norse when he turned into an alley and found it blocked, forcing him to abandon one of his more familiar escape routes and turn into a busier street, filled with stalls and merchants who might recognise him.

He zipped through the crowds, lamenting his recent growth spurt because it made it a lot harder to blend in. The smell of freshly baked breads and exotic fruits made him nauseous, his stomach lurching even though there was nothing in it for it to force back up. The longer he lingered, the more people started to realise something was wrong, grabbing at him to take "justice" in their own hands, as if they knew anything about not having another choice. It forced him to dodge, to bat them away, to lose even more of his speed. Desperately, he kept glancing to his sides, hoping for another alleyway he could disappear into.

As soon as he saw one, he leapt for it. But his feet no longer agreed with him, and he slipped as he landed, his right arm hitting the ground, and he could only grit his teeth in pain instead of yell as it was scraped open when he ground to a halt.

He struggled back up, his head still spinning both from the impact and the realisation that he was thoroughly screwed. Which the universe supported with a loud _crash,_ right behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder to see the contents of an entire fruit basket spill over the street as the aforementioned basket bounced on the ground, once, twice, before coming to a stop in the entrance to the alley. The apples it'd contained travelled much further, and if Hiccup hadn't been so relieved by how the chaos effectively blocked the way from the main street to him, he would have been impressed.

"What the hell!? My apples!"

It took him a moment to realise the shout wasn't directed at him. Instead, the young man it'd come from demonstratively put his hands on his hips and fumed at the men who'd been chasing Hiccup to begin with, shouting at them how they could be so stupid and clumsy, and that they ought to look where they're going.

Apparently the Gods were keeping an eye out for him after all.

He quickly surveyed his surroundings and climbed up the nearest one-story building he could find, grunting as his right arm protested. He pressed himself against the neighbours' wall, clutched the reassuring weight of the wallet he'd stolen to his chest, and simply waited. If there was anything he'd learnt, it was that Constantinople's people hardly ever looked towards the sky, and that if he could get there unseen, up was always the best way to go. If only he had his own pair of wings, his life would be a lot easier. Or if Toothless had been in any shape to fly.

His heart stung, so he focused on the pain in his arm, the raspy feeling in this throat as he tried to calm his breath, and the shouting down the street. Whatever merchant his pursuers had wronged was absolutely giving them an earful, demanding restitution for his spilt apples, or that they at the very least get out of his sight. Until finally, it went quiet.

Hiccup still didn't dare to move, figuring he'd be better off waiting until they were long gone from the area, and the people there had forgotten about him. Or he would have waited, if he hadn't heard the merchant's voice only moments later.

"You can come back down, you know. They got enough sour looks from the rest of the market to be scared off for a while."

When Hiccup didn't answer, the merchant sighed. "Look, I _know_ you're there. I'm not stupid, and I'm not going to turn you in either, but the people whose roof you're sitting on might."

He could run again if he had to. If he just got another moment to recover.

"I get that you're careful, but honestly, so am I, and I'd like to get out of here before anyone figures out that one, that wasn't my stall, and two, I actually pushed over that basket myself. I have to say though -" Hiccup nearly yelped when an apple was thrown his way and landed almost perfectly in his lap. "- these are remarkably good."

Turning the piece of fruit over in his hands, the growl in his stomach finally convinced him to look over the edge of the roof. And instead of a number of guards, he found himself looking at a guy, only a few years his senior. He was slender, though less lean than Hiccup himself, and while he looked leaps from being rich, he also didn't have the clear marks of someone who had to sleep on the streets at night. His lips were slightly parted, yet curled up into a confident smirk, his boyishly handsome but strangely mature features framed by long, dark-brown curls which respectfully left a clear view at a pair of deep, umber eyes.

"There we go," the apparently-not-a-merchant smiled as Hiccup checked the alley to indeed find it empty, safe for the two of them. After another moment of hesitation, in which the not-merchant simply arched up his eyebrow, Hiccup decided to take a leap of faith, and hopped off the roof.

"Thank you," he muttered, digging his dirty fingernails into the apple as he hastily took a bite. No one around here did anything without wanting something in return, and pretending you weren't going to give it to them was usually the quickest way to bring it out.

"What's with the glove?" the guy asked, pointing at his right hand and following him.

"Injured it." Which wasn't a lie. He pulled his hood further over his eyes so the guy couldn't catch a glimpse of his face.

"Hey, I just saved your ass, the least you can do is give me more than a few words," the guy laughed. "Although you sound foreign. Are you? How's your Greek?"

He took another bite, only barely suppressing a moan at the sweet taste of the juice, and the liberating feeling of _food_ in his mouth. He quickly stuffed his mouth full before he answered, his voice muffled. "It's fine. Just missing a lot of words, still, and you know -" He gestured with his hands, but kept his head down. "- the accent."

"Definitely one I haven't heard before. Where's that from?"

"It's Norse." He pointed above them. " _Very_ far to the North. You've probably never met anyone from there."

"Can't say I have. What's your name then?" From the corner of his eyes, he saw the guy put his hand on his chest. "I'm Alexander."

"The Great?" he snorted.

"Of course! I named myself after him," Alexander smiled. "So what's yours?"

"Hiccup."

" _Hiccup_ ," Alexander repeated, his tongue struggling with the Norse sound of it. "What does it mean?"

"It's - Gods, I can't believe I'm going to embarrass myself like this - but it's basically this sound." He swallowed down the final piece of the apple, and audibly hiccuped. "That."

"Oh my God, really? No way," Alexander laughed, a deep, full sound that made Hiccup involuntarily look up.

"Really," he smiled, too, because Alexander was laughing at the absurdity of the situation, rather than Hiccup himself. And whatever he wanted from him, at least he wasn't being a dick about it.

"Wow, now that's something. Is that normal where you're from, or did whoever gave it to you just hate you?"

"A bit of both. Definitely wasn't on good terms with my parents before they died," he lied, albeit only partly. It was a lot easier to pretend his father was dead than to give him the light of day in any other way. For all Hiccup knew, he had indeed done everyone a favour and sailed for Valhalla since he'd left the Archipelago. "Guy I knew was called 'Fishlegs' though," he continued, literally translating the name. "Another one was simply 'Bucket'."

"I'm not quick to say we have it better here, but in that regard, we definitely do."

"Should I pick a different name too, then?" he suggested. "Honor one of your dead emperors."

"If it makes you feel at home, go ahead," Alexander teased, shooting him yet another smile that made Hiccup forget about keeping his head down, although his hood still kept him in the shades. "Although, if you want my professional opinion, I would stick with your own. Sounds exotic, different. Which can never hurt."

He scoffed internally at just how much it could hurt to be different, but didn't feel the need to enlighten his companion. "What is your profession, then?" he asked, starting to feel more at ease as they neared the harbour district and the smell of raw fish and the saltiness of the sea greeted him. For all he'd dreaded about the Archipelago, he did much prefer its smells over those of the mainland cities. "If you're not a fruit merchant."

"Well you know what they say, it takes a thief to know another."

"Yet you haven't robbed me yet, I'm amazed," he dared to joke.

"I'm not quite down there anymore, thank God. I only steal what I can't afford."

"Same for me, though. Trouble is that that's basically everything. Weirdly, that excuse doesn't seem to work with the guards."

"That's not trouble, just survival," Alexander scoffed. "If this city wanted the poor to stay in line, they ought to properly look after them. They hardly get a fraction of the shit they dish out thrown back at them. No need to feel any guilt about keeping yourself alive."

 _And Toothless_. He fiddled with the pouch of coins, trying to calculate just how much fish he could buy with it. How long Toothless could last on it. How badly he'd doomed his only friend by travelling to regions Toothless' body couldn't handle, and where they were now stranded.

For the second time since they'd met, Hiccup had rendered his best friend flightless. But this time, he had no idea how to fix it.

"I guess it'd be a much fairer world if everyone got what they deserved," he agreed. While the world, and the entirety of Berk, had always had a knack for making him pay for his mistakes, he could name many others for whom that was hardly the case. Starting with the Berkians themselves.

"Speaking of fair, though…" Alexander drawled, shooting him a cheeky grin. "I do think I deserve a cut of your spoils, since I saved your ass."

"No honour among thieves, huh?" he snorted, shaking his head. "I bet I'm not the first guy you've saved out of the 'pure goodness of your heart'." At the very least, Hiccup now owed Alexander for indeterminate time, which he no doubt knew how to make use of.

"I do mean well, but I also live by a code," Alexander smiled, putting up his hands. "Although truth be told, it's more like a collection of guidelines, really." His eyes wandered down to where Hiccup was fumbling with the pouch, then skimmed up his arm "Which also obligate me to tell you you ought to bandage that arm of yours."

"Let me check the medical supplies I have on me," he deadpanned, skimming the quays for an easy way out of this conversation.

Alexander grabbed his injured elbow, pulling him to a halt and pushing him against the side of a wooden shipyard. "Did anyone ever tell you you're too cheeky for your own good?"

"More often than you can imagine," he winced, briefly thinking back to Gobber and how he was right about how his mouth would get him into trouble. He looked down at Alexander, who was gazing up at his hood, his eyes dangerously squinting. Seeming even deeper up close than they had from afar. He supposed it wasn't the worst thing to see right before getting stabbed.

But instead, Alexander stepped back, released him, and smiled. "I can appreciate that." Alexander looked down at his shirt, and before Hiccup could stop him, he heard a tearing sound and Alexander was back in his personal space, wrapping the piece of cloth around his injured arm. "Life gets boring without anyone talking back to you."

"I'm told I'm pretty good at that," he muttered, still on-guard as Alexander's hands fleetingly skimmed his arm. Especially with the way he was not looking at his work at all, but instead peering at the shadows Hiccup's hood cast over his face. He cleared his throat, feeling deeply uncomfortable and hoping he could redirect Alexander's attention to his considerably less hideous injury. "You didn't have to do that. Ruin the seam of your shirt."

"I have spares. Given how worn out this is -" Alexander demonstrated his observation by lightly pulling on Hiccup's tunic. "I'm going to guess you don't."

"Can't deny that," he admitted.

"Then let me take care of you, for just this moment, instead of talking back," Alexander chided him. "Which you're probably not used to, people like you and me never are, so enjoy it."

He scolded himself for the warmth that flared up in his chest at the casual way in which Alexander had grouped the two of them together. An unfamiliar sense of belonging, which he hadn't felt since - _ever_. Not with people, or anywhere other than with Toothless in the sky. He'd thought he'd had a shot at that until the Wingmaidens had implicitly sent him away.

He couldn't get delusional now. But perhaps for once, he could do as he was told.

"Thank you."

"Good boy," Alexander smiled, carefully, petting the bandage as if he was afraid Hiccup would bolt otherwise. He was probably right. "Now, let me do another nice thing; I'll let you off the hook when it comes to my cut."

"If?"

Alexander's smile broadened. "Why would there be an 'if'?"

"I wasn't born yesterday. There's always an 'if'."

"True, and now you've totally ruined my set-up," Alexander mock-lamented. "I was going to say that I'll let you walk…" He dragged out the moment, his eyes gleaming. "If you take off that hood and show me your face."

His breath caught and he froze, the blood draining from his face simply at the thought. "No."

"Come on, Hiccup," Alexander purred. "What could you possibly be hiding? A fake eye? A complete lack of teeth?"

"My teeth and eyes are fine," he muttered. "I'm just not comfortable…"

"Then I'll simply take my money and be on my way," Alexander shrugged, taking a step away from Hiccup and holding up his hand expectantly.

Hiccup looked down at it and fiddled with the coin pouch, wondering how much Toothless could miss. Even though he already knew the answer was none. He was a coward, unable to erase the pitying looks the Wingmaidens had given him from his mind's eye, the horrified way in which the mainlanders in other cities had reacted when he'd walked into their tavern or shop. When his scars had still been fresh, before he'd learnt that dragon-related burns weren't as common here. And that they hardly knew of dragons at all, beyond the legends they told.

All he had to do was face a little bit of scrutiny, show a piece of his vulnerability by exposing himself. For Toothless to be better fed, to have a higher chance of making it through whatever Hiccup was unintentionally putting him through. But everything Berk used to say about him, all the names he'd been called for not being brave and strong enough proved to be true, because he couldn't prevent his fingers from digging into the wallet.

"I'll take half," Alexander interrupted his thoughts.

His head snapped up, incredulous. "That's insane."

"And you weren't lying about your eyes, they're indeed very fine," Alexander smirked, stepping in closer again. "Green, it seems."

Hiccup reached up to grab his hood and pull it back over his eyes as he instinctively took a step back. But he found himself trapped between Alexander and the wall behind him.

Between selling out Toothless' fate, and facing his own fears.

Before he could second-guess himself again, he gripped his hood tighter and took it off in one go. He squinted against the southern sun, then decided to completely keep his eyes closed as he awaited Alexander's reaction. His surprised yelp, or disgusted scoff. His rejection, which he shouldn't care for to begin with. And yet he couldn't deny the tightening knot in his stomach, making him sick as his insides started to hurt even more than they had from his hunger alone.

But instead, he only heard a tender whisper. "What happened to you?"

"A fire," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "Almost two years ago."

"How old were you then?"

"Just sixteen." He carefully opened one eye, and then the other to find Alexander's umber irises examining his own, then slowly studying the many lines marring his face.

"Is that when your parents died too?" There wasn't a hint of judgement in Alexander's voice. Just curiosity.

"My father, yes." That's how it had felt, at least. "My mother died when I was only a few months old."

"I'm sorry," Alexander softly said, the right corner of his mouth turning up into a wistful, earnest smile. Hiccup's heart skipped a beat when Alexander reached out to him, but instead of touching him, he simply pointed at the glove on Hiccup's right hand. "It got your hand too, right?"

"Yes," he nodded. "The entire right side of my body is…" He gestured at his face. "Like that."

"Looks like you're lucky to be alive."

"Whether it's 'lucky' or not is still up for debate," he shrugged.

"But you're too proud to give up, right?" Alexander smiled knowingly, nodding at Hiccup's face. "Life did that to you and you don't want it to get away with it."

"I guess you could put it that way, yeah."

Alexander pursed his lips. "Then why do you hide them?"

"Are you serious?" He pulled up the eyebrow he no longer had. "Because they're ugly as fuck, obviously."

"And you've got tragically low self-esteem?"

 _Yes._ He rolled his eyes. "I don't need random strangers to pity me," he bit.

"The only thing I find pitiful about you is the sheer amount of nonsense you're spouting," Alexander shot back, crossing his arms.

"What are you on about? You don't know me!"

"But I know enough guys like you, because _I'm_ like you," Alexander challenged him, propping his arm against the wall behind Hiccup and leaning in so closely that Hiccup could count the specks of light brown in his eyes he hadn't seen before. "You walk around in a world that's beaten you down so many times the only reason you get back up is that you're too goddamn stubborn to let it win. And since you can't rely on anyone, you believe you're right about everything, because why would you possibly accept that _maybe_ , you could use someone else's point of view? Or their _help_?"

He swallowed, ignoring the way Alexander's observation stung and stirred something deep inside him. "Then what is your point of view?"

"That you're terribly wrong about two things," Alexander relaxed, pushing himself off the wall and putting up one of his shockingly long fingers. "First of all, your scars aren't ugly. Tragic, yes, terribly. But they're also fascinating and unique. They make your eyes linger, your fingers tingle as they wonder what it'd be like to trace every single line. Where it might lead, and what more there is to uncover…"

Hiccup couldn't help but blush as Alexander added weight to his words by giving him a slow, thorough glance-over, his eyes venturing down from the side of Hiccup's face to where his collarbone disappeared under his tunic. "Now you're just looking at me as if I'm for sale," he croaked.

"You'd be surprised," Alexander smirked at a joke Hiccup didn't feel he understood. But the way Alexander's eyes lit up in clear delight didn't help at all with making his face return to its original colour.

Having no clue of how to handle what he could only call an absurd compliment on his deformities, he tried to change the subject. "And what's the second thing?"

"That, judging by how this tunic probably used to fit you but that you can now only barely fill it, you could use some people who pity you."

"I'm not pitiful," he insisted.

"But those are two different things, right?" Alexander elaborated. "That people pity you, doesn't mean that you can't stand up for yourself. It simply means people perceive you wrongly, and _that_ , more so than sleight of hand or being a fast runner, is what makes someone an excellent thief. Believe me, I'd know."

"How so?"

"The more you hide, the more suspicious you look. People are on the lookout for hooded figures like yourself. It's the danger they know, after all, and easy to spot."

"And a guy with a face full of scars isn't?" he scoffed.

"Sure, you stand out, but you forget there are only two ways in which people are going to react. Either they don't know how to deal with the world's injustice being made so obvious to them, and they deliberately avoid looking at you further. Which makes them the easiest targets of your life," Alexander countered, smirking like a man who'd pulled that trick himself.

"And in the other scenario, they simply beat me up for letting out the freak?"

"I highly doubt it," Alexander snorted. "As little as this city's people care for each other, they're not that cruel either. Usually." He cocked his head. "But no, I meant people like me, who will be too fascinated to note anything else. Which gives you the freedom to do whatever you want with those undoubtedly quick hands of yours."

"You're pulling my leg," he snorted. "No one's that stupid, or easily distracted."

"You really underestimate how dumb some people are. Or easy to deceive, rather. And those who can misdirect, they succeed." Alexander retrieved a coin from his pant pockets and tossed it up in the air, only to smile when he saw Hiccup's eyes follow it. "It's all about making people look where you want them to, so they don't see what you wish to hide."

"Maybe," he shrugged.

"What would you say my weakness is, Hiccup?" Alexander asked him, his tone sharp. "You've had your time to observe, and it should be rather obvious."

His breath caught as he looked Alexander up and down, realising he had no idea.

Alexander smiled as if he'd expected that answer exactly. "I have been limping all the way over here." He pulled up his left pant leg, revealing a set of browning bandages spiralling up from his ankle to his knee. "Couldn't even have run if I'd wanted to. You would've gotten away easily if you'd decided to run from me, but you didn't. Because you were too hungry to pay attention to anything other than the apple I gave you, and then stuck in your own head until you inevitably became distracted by my eyes."

He swallowed uncomfortably. "I'm not -" he stuttered, but then paused. He wasn't what, exactly? Having involuntary flashbacks to the time his father had told him 'about Gobber'?

"Don't worry about it," Alexander chuckled, a smooth, melodious sound. "You're not the first, and given that I know how to use my looks, you won't be the last."

"At least one of us doesn't have a lack of self-esteem," he smiled despite his best intentions of keeping a straight face.

"Like I said, you're not bad yourself," Alexander smirked, taking a step closer.

"I disagree."

"You have much to learn, Hiccup." Alexander shook his head and took a step back. "But I'm willing to let this disagreement slide if you heed my other piece of advice."

"And if I don't?" he countered, putting up his chin.

Alexander's eyes visibly shone in response to his challenge. "That would be your loss. But if you do give my methods a shot, and manage to stay out of trouble for the next, let's say, two weeks, then I will happily teach you more of what I know."

He squinted. "What's in it for you?"

"Can't hurt to have people on your side in a city like this, right?" Alexander knowingly smiled. "No matter how much you might be convinced you can do it all by yourself. So the next time I need a hand, I can hopefully expect yours."

"I'll do my best," he nodded, although he wasn't sure how that particular promise would hold up. But somehow, he wanted to try.

"Which is all I ask for." Alexander slowly stepped backwards, putting distance between them as he moved to leave. "And that you remember that you should never hide who you are. Embrace it. Use it. So no one else will dare to do it for you."

* * *

That had been the first, but definitely not last time he'd seen Alexander. The man had had a knack for spotting Hiccup in crowds. Although that had become a lot easier after Hiccup had indeed taken his advice to heart, and had stopped hiding his scars. Because as much as he'd hated to admit it, Alexander had been right. The way he'd been right about many things.

People really only looked where you wanted them to, and he and Alexander had celebrated Hiccup's newfound success extensively, after which Alex had coached him to go further. Until their relationship turned into what Hiccup had thought to be a friendship, or partnership, even, especially once Hiccup had come to know that Alexander had indeed been wondering how to sell Hiccup.

Alex had gotten Hiccup over his fear of showing his scars. As much as he hated that, he couldn't give anyone else the credit. But he loathed himself even more for dwelling on that memory now, over eight years later, as he was standing on a cliff high above Berk's arena. Where he'd been pacing, trying to convince himself that he should take off his helmet, struggling to understand why he was even hesitating to begin with.

It was no longer about the scars. But the rest of him. Raw, exposed. His fate put in the hands of Berk, in those of the people who would and would not show up at noon today. That it was their decision to make, without his hand nudging - or forcing - them in the right direction. And he hated that with every fibre of his being. Because his life with Astrid depended on it, and he had no agency over it at all.

But he didn't want to let Astrid down. Even though she wouldn't be here today, he had to pretend she was. Convince her that he was trying to make this work. And he couldn't expect anyone to hear him out if he couldn't even face them head on.

So he took off his helmet, for the first time since he'd landed on Berk without anyone explicitly asking him to. Or forcing him the way Astrid had in the square the day he'd abandoned her. And glided down towards the arena to see which Berkians had also decided to conquer their fears today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this little flashback to start out the next act with :) I like to write a scenes like this to show where Hiccup and some of his views on life and himself came from by showing some of his experiences from his point of view rather than through him telling Astrid. 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [aleteia-ff](https://aleteia-ff.tumblr.com/)! I intend to do Six Sentence Sunday there every other Sunday, which will give you all a bit of a preview of what's yet to come! 
> 
> If you want to discuss the fic with me and other people, you are also welcome to join us on the [A Thing Of Vikings Discord Server](https://discordapp.com/invite/xVuZfK2), in the channel #aleteias-fics!
> 
> The story will be updated on Saturday four weeks from now, around 6 PM Central European (Summer) Time! ([What time is that for me?](https://www.timeanddate.com/worldclock/fixedtime.html?msg=The+Phantom+of+the+Archipelago+Update&iso=20200404T18&p1=16))

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [aleteia-ff](https://aleteia-ff.tumblr.com/)! I intend to do Six Sentence Sunday there every Sunday, which will give you all a bit of a preview of what's yet to come! 
> 
> If you want to discuss the fic with me and other people, you are also welcome to join us on the [A Thing Of Vikings Discord Server](https://discordapp.com/invite/xVuZfK2), in the channel #aleteias-fics!
> 
> The story will be updated on Saturday two weeks from now, around 6 PM Central European (Summer) Time! ([What time is that for me?](https://www.timeanddate.com/worldclock/fixedtime.html?msg=The+Phantom+of+the+Archipelago+Update&iso=20200404T18&p1=16))


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